


Though waiting to be hell

by erlenwein



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tudor Era, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Pining, Unexpected Family Relations, oblivious idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-02-26 07:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 46,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13230432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erlenwein/pseuds/erlenwein
Summary: Wicked, cruel, egotistic — Prince Roy represented everything Ed couldn’t stand in people; Ed would gladly let him die. But if he could get the petal disease — if he was capable of loving somebody so much, — then, maybe, he was not as bad as he seemed? He should at least be given a chance — and then, who knows, maybe this love would shape him into a better person.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miroveha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miroveha/gifts).



> My eternal gratitude to @Miroveha for giving me the idea and then suffering through me writing it and to @Carbynn for fixing the mess of my grammar.
> 
> Title taken from Shakespeare's 58th sonnet, "I am to wait, though waiting so be hell, // Not blame your pleasure, be it ill or well."  
> 

First to announce the prince’s arrival were the servants: his standard was seen outside the city, and the harbingers from the city walls rushed to the palace to deliver the news. The capital, of course, already knew how the battle ended: the prince won yet again in Ishval, and the Aerugovian army fled from the battlefield, leaving one of their generals there; wounded and outnumbered, he surrendered. Rumour had it, the Aerugovian general was wounded by Prince Roy himself; Ed just shrugged, when he heard that. If it was indeed true, and the general was struck by the prince’s flame-bladed sword, then he was doomed — these wounds weren’t easy to heal. The general wouldn’t live to see his homeland again after a blow like this. Ed himself thought these weapons to be incredibly cruel; although it’s not like the prince had ever asked for his opinion. 

The hallways were buzzing. Everybody was trying to look out of the window to see the prince dismounting and giving orders to his entourage; Ed walked right past them into the Presence Chamber, where the king was receiving petitioners — His Highness will certainly head there to report.

 

In the Chamber Ed navigated the crowd to find his brother; Al greeted him, while trying to button the collar of his jerkin.

“Have you seen the prince yet?” he whispered. Ed shook his head; he’d have enough time to look at the prince all he wants. If the prince came to the capital, he’d stay here for some time: the king, his almighty brother, always tried to keep the prince around, but the prince, irresponsible as he always was, escaped to his harrisons and battlefields every time, neglecting his duties.

His Highness took some time arriving though; he entered with his retinue, when several more people had addressed the king, and bowed to king Zolf. Dressed in a traveller’s cloak, not befitting a prince at all, he still looked regal — his status clearly seen in his steps, in his posture. The king nodded to him and gestured for the prince to speak; Prince Roy smiled and spoke.

The battle was nothing extraordinary though; another clash of two garrisons, Amestrian and Aerugovian. They’ve been fighting for uniting Ishval before Ed’s grandparents were born, and this war could as well last for Ed’s grandchildren to see; nothing new. Prince Roy, of course, was convinced he could end the war in next several years: Amestrians were… well, not loved, but not as hated by Ishvalans as Aerugovians, and even those who wanted to see Ishval completely independent, agreed that using Amestrians to at least unite Ishval was reasonable. Ed, of course, disagreed both with Ishvalans and the prince; the former seemed to forget the bitter lesson Xerxesians learned, and the latter, in Ed’s eyes, was just as bad as the Bradley dynasty that destroyed Xerxes three centuries ago, another bloodthirsty butcher. Too many Amestrians and Xerxesians had died for Ishval; why not just leave them in their desert to sort their problems themselves?

The king was not particularly interested in the prince’s tale; he only stirred when the captured general was escorted in and forced to kneel before him. But the general was escorted out, and the prince ushered the king to the more secluded chamber behind a thick door, to talk in private. The whispers went around; the war was far from over, of course, but another spectacular victory was always appreciated. Most courtiers weren’t soldiers; the court itself was quite peaceful, and unrest on the borders didn’t bother them except for the times when taxes were raised.

Al elbowed Ed again. “Stop frowning,” he advised, and Ed huffed; but then he saw the king returning and gesturing to their father. Van Hohenheim stepped to the king immediately; after getting what seemed to be an order he looked to his sons at their place among the courtiers and nodded. It meant their help might be needed; despite their noble status they were at the court not as the sons of Lady Trisha Elric, the Mistress of Robes at Her Highness Lady Izumi’s court, but as the sons and apprentices to Van Hohenheim, the royal physician. They both were equally satisfied by this; were they to have any position at court meant for the nobles, they would endure much more pressure than they had now. Their grandparents, Lord and Lady Elric, would be horrified, of course; but neither Trisha nor Van Hohenheim really cared — as long as Ed and Al were happy, their parents were happy for them.

 

Their father left first; he sent a servant to fetch them, and Ed and Al obediently followed.

“Did His Majesty want us to look at the Aerugovian? If he was indeed wounded by His Highness, it’s not good. I heard so much about wounds like this, and they are… whooh.”

Ed shrugged and held the door for Al.

Their father was already inside — but not with the general. On the patient’s chair there was the prince, looking very annoyed; when he noticed Ed and Al, he became even grimmer.

“I’ve told Jay already, that’s nothing. A scratch, nothing more. Knox’d seen it already.”

“I don’t doubt Knox’s judgement, but just for His Majesty to be sure, Your Highness, please — I will verify everything is alright. It won’t take long, I promise. Now please, could you?”

The prince sighed heavily and took off his doublet and shirt, revealing a scratch on his side — indeed, nothing to be worried about. In a week or two it will be completely gone.

Van Hohenheim still paid it utmost attention; meanwhile the prince was examining the room. He rarely visited it — His Highness was away from court very often, and most of his — seldom — injuries were treated by Dr Knox of Ishvalan garrison. Ed himself had never met the man, but he heard a lot of praise from his father; it would be interesting indeed to meet him in person. The prince seemed to hold him in high regard as well; but Ed never trusted his judgements. 

Ed startled, though, when he felt the prince looking straight at him; Ed immediately turned his head in an attempt to avoid his stare. For many reasons Ed disliked His Highness, and did a poor job of hiding it; partly because he was never important enough at the court for his opinion to matter to the prince, and partly because he maybe wanted the prince to know of his opinion. They had never had an open confrontation, though, just a few incidents of bickering — from Ed’s side, and mocking — from the side of prince Roy, the entitled asshole.

The examination of the wound was over, finally, and the prince was already reaching for his shirt, but suddenly he coughed — an unpleasant wet cough, shaking his entire body; Van Hohenheim, who was smiling softly before that, frowned. Ed heard Al exhaling noisily; that none of them would have expected. They all knew that kind of cough, wouldn’t mistake it for a common cold; that was the cough of the petal disease. 

Van Hohenheim took his ear trumpet from the table. “Your Highness, may I?” he asked in a voice that offered no choice whatsoever. The prince frowned.

“Knox will handle it, doctor,” he said, unfolding his shirt to put it on again, “I am heading back to Ishval soon anyway.”

“With all due respect, good sir, he’s a great surgeon, but he can’t handle the petals. And I, for your information, am the primary expert on the petal disease in the entire land of Amestris.”

The prince made a face. “And you will report to my brother faster than I will be done with the buttons. At least Knox values my privacy.”

“That, Your Highness, is my duty. I was ordered to report to the king when he first told me to take a look at your wound.”

“To hell with you; fine!” The prince threw his shirt back on the chair and let Van Hohenheim examine him; he obediently breathed louder and slower, but luckily for him, the cough didn’t repeat. Van Hohenheim was still frowning, though; he gestured for Ed to come closer and take some notes.

“Get dressed now, please. When did it start? The taste, the cough?”

The prince put on his shirt and shrugged. “A year ago? Maybe one and a half. The cough… must be a couple of weeks. Not every day. Never in the daytime.” He stopped and looked at Van Hohenheim. “How much time do I have?”

“Depends on whether you will confess.”

“Out of the question,” Prince Roy snapped, suddenly defensive. “Not your business, Van Hohenheim. Not anybody’s. Now go, report to my brother.”

Van Hohenheim sighed heavily; when the prince left, slamming the door, he turned to his sons.

“I am going to His Majesty. And you two — not a word to anyone, not to discuss in any place where you can be overheard. Preferably abstain from talking of it whatsoever.” He turned and left as well; Al exhaled and sat on the patient’s chair.

“Who would have thought, huh? Prince Roy — and the petals. I wonder whom he’s coughing for,” Al glanced at his brother; Ed shrugged. It was unexpected indeed. His Highness, Prince Roy, the most handsome — after the king himself — man at the court, and coughing? And, even more unexpected, refusing to confess even to save his own life?

But who indeed could it be? Somebody worth dying for, or somebody who wouldn’t even listen to his confession of love? Ed knew such people at court — cold and immovable, who turned away those who were literally dying of love for them; he had always assumed that the prince was one of this type. He was always seen flirting with everybody; Ed could have sworn he saw Prince Roy flirting with Lady Trisha at Lady Izumi’s court. And now he’s in love, and refused to confess — but why? Even the coldest hearts at the court would have warmed up for the prince, if not for his possible virtues, but at least for his status.

For a year and a half already… Ed counted in his mind; if the prince was sick for that long, then he had no more than five years to live. Six, if he’d be extremely careful; that left him three, maybe four years to confess, before his lungs were completely ruined by the flowers growing in them. But with his temper — Ed wouldn’t be too surprised if the prince were to die in next two years, either from the petal disease or from his own stupidity and recklessness.

“It’s not our business, I suppose,” Ed finally said, when Al poked him for the millionth time. “His love life is his own. If he wants to die young, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Do you think his retinue knows? Or his brother? What if is queen Riza?” Al gasped at his own words. “They are so close! Grew up together! And now she’s happily married and he’s out there, risking his life in Ishval!”

Ed smacked him half-heartedly. “Not our business, Al. He’ll be gone to Ishval in a month anyway, and even if he stays, it’s not like he’s going to spill his heart out to any of us.”

 

Van Hohenheim found them again before supper: Ed and Al were reading a Xerxesian volume about childbirth. In these matters Xerxesian doctors were better by far than Amestrians, although in fields like surgery they were far behind.

“What did His Majesty say? Was he pissed?” Al asked, letting Ed turn the page. Father sat next to them.

“Yes. He was livid, in fact. Started asking His Highness who’s that person he’s coughing for, ordered him to stay at court at all times… His Highness wasn’t happy about it either. He was going to leave for Ishval, to finish the fight, as he put it, but now he can’t because of his brother. They came to a solution though…”

Ed closed the book.

“A solution we won’t like, am I correct?”

Van Hohenheim nodded. “You will be appointed to His Highness’ retinue. Not sure which position you’ll be given, something befitting your mother’s estate. But your task will be to keep an eye on the prince’s condition and to inform me and His Majesty of any changes. If — only if — you are able to learn the name of his love, then you’re to report it as well. If all goes well, you will be given a title of your own, and rewarded for your service of course.”

“I am to spy on the prince in exchange for something I don’t need,” Ed scowled. “I see. Why me? Did the prince insist on it?”

“He didn’t. His Majesty decided it should be you, and Al should stay as my apprentice and assistant. I beg you, Edward, behave with the prince. You don’t like him, I understand, but he’s not as bad as you might imagine, certainly not worse than young Bradleys.”

Al whistled. “Haven’t even heard of a person worse than young Bradleys, to be honest. They certainly set a bar low enough… But I agree, don’t be an ass to the prince. He’s ill, after all.”

Ed groaned. “Fine! I will try! I can’t promise I’ll be a model servant though. Or a subtle spy.”

“Mostly, you’ll need to be a good physician. I’ll give you my notes on the petals, the ones I made watching your mother and myself, and I’ll still be prescribing him medicines, you just need to check if he takes them as he should,” Van Hohenheim smiled warmly at him. He indeed was the expert on the petal disease — because he survived it. 

That story was widely known: Trisha Elric was allowed by Lady Chris, the Princess Regent, to marry a man at a position that low, because both she and her beloved were sick with love to each other. A so-called ‘petal marriage’, invented for cases like this; any mésalliance was allowed when separating the lovers was sure to kill them both.

So they had gotten a special permission and were wedded, and, while Trisha’s parents were furious about the whole thing, the court was in their favor; Lady Izumi, then in search for ladies-in-waiting, took Trisha in and gave her husband a place at her court. His skills — especially in treating the petals, — earned him a position at the King Zolf’s court two years ago; since then he had more patients than he could handle.

And now this — a patient with the petals who can’t be treated openly. And what a patient — Prince Roy, a vain, shallow man, who never cared for anything or anybody in his life; all virtues he could have had went to his siblings, Lady Izumi and King Zolf, while he got vices meant for three men. Wicked, cruel, egotistic — Prince Roy represented everything Ed couldn’t stand in people; Ed would gladly let him die. But if he could get the petal disease — if he was capable of loving somebody so much, — then, maybe, he was not as bad as he seemed? He should at least be given a chance — and then, who knows, maybe this love would shape him into a better person.

“I’ll try,” Ed finally said, his mind made up. “Will I have to be with him all the time?”

Van Hohenheim nodded.

“You will be given lodgings of your own, and you must accompany him at all times, whether he hunts, or trains, or dines, or travels. You’ll become part of his retinue, so I assume you must get used to wearing his colors as well.”

“Perfect. Just perfect,” Ed winced. “I guess I don’t have a say in this though.”

“Indeed, you do not. So at least pretend to be nice, Edward, please.” With that Van Hohenheim left, leaving Ed and Al to their reading. Books on medicine always helped to distract them from heavy thoughts; today wasn’t an exception.

 

There was a feast in the evening; the hall was kept, and everybody gathered here to celebrate the victory. Sitting in his place, low and far away from the center tables, Ed kept glancing at the prince. He was cheerful — chatting with Their Majesties, smiling a lot; completely unlike someone who received a death sentence today. 

The tables were cleared; the prince stood up and gestured to the musicians — the time for true celebrations had come. For the first dance a Cretan melody was played, and the prince tugged at his brother’s sleeve. That was a dance for brothers — usually by blood, but sometimes  for brothers-in-arms as well; at Lady Izumi’s court Ed sometimes danced with Al to same music. But both King Zolf and Prince Roy were better dancers than Ed and Al, so watching them was much more pleasing.

Ed was not the only one watching them, of course: the king and his brother were the most handsome, most desirable people at court. Black hair that the king prefered to wear long, an outdated tradition for the elder son that Ed also followed; the prince chose to cut his hair short, as the second son and as a soldier. Skin milky-white — truer for the king than for the prince who spent too much time in the South fighting Aerugo; blue eyes — Ed had noticed today that prince Roy’s eyes were indeed of that pure Amestrian blue color of their dynasty. That was a rare combination, and therefore more valuable: most dark-haired Amestrians had dark eyes, and those with blue ones were blond, so any deviation was interesting.

Ed and Al themselves were deviating too — they took after their Xerxesian father, golden hair and eyes, golden skin — now, when they lived in the Central, their skin was slightly lighter; back in Dublith the sun darkened it even more. But Xerxesians were plenty — since Xerxes had been conquered a lot of people left for Amestris and mixed with the local population, and now seeing an Amestrian with Xerxesian golden eyes wasn’t a rare occasion. Xingese, though, —they still were incredibly rare, even considering Xingese origins of the ruling dynasty; and the king and his brother did look Xingese indeed.

The music changed, and other dancers joined in: like Maes Hughes, Earl of Wellesley, and his wife, Lady Gracia. He was Prince Roy’s personal friend, albeit much nicer; or maybe Ed let his sympathy for his wife, Queen Riza’s lady-in-waiting, affect his judgement. She — oh, she was incredibly sweet; when Ed and Al first came to the court at Central, she helped them navigate both the palace and the people; when she gave birth to a daughter, Ed was honored with a chance to hold the baby in his arms. With the earl himself he never crossed paths; mostly watched him from afar, usually next to the prince. That was a petal marriage as well — the earl was a poor knight when he met the prince, and their friendship let him rise; but Lady Gracia hadn’t been noble at all. Maybe that’s why she was always so kind to others; not many courtiers were kind to people around.

Her Majesty's ladies-in-waiting went around the hall, choosing partners; one of them, Lady Rebecca, offered her hand to Ed, but he shook his head. He wasn’t in the mood for dancing today, not with all the news he received. Lady Rebecca smiled at him and turned to Al; Al accepted her offer and stood up. His brother was so much better in court rituals and traditions; one day he’d become a perfect courtier, with his ability to see through people. It was a sad thing to admit, but out of two brothers Al was best suited for a place of royal physician; albeit Ed didn’t mind if he himself had to seek practice outside of the palace. The strict court of Central City mostly annoyed him; at Dublith he had been much happier — much freer.

It was indeed a shame Ed was appointed to the prince and not Al; he would deal with it much better. But they’d see; perhaps if Ed failed, then Al would take his place.

 

They were preparing to sleep, when somebody knocked on their door. Ed put his comb away.

“Come in!”

The door opened; Jean Havoc, one of prince’s retinue, walked in. Ed barely knew him — rumour had it, Havoc was of Xerxesian descent as well, raised somewhere in the East, close to Elrics’ lands. He had a name of the best archer at the court; that was how prince Roy had noticed him for the first time.

“His Grace wishes to speak to you, Master Elric,” Havoc bowed and smiled to him, with friendliness Ed didn’t expect. “Now, if possible.”

As if it couldn’t wait till morning; Ed wrapped his ribbon prepared to be plaited around his wrist and stood up.

“Fine. Lead the way.” He grabbed his doublet as he walked out, following Havoc’s footsteps.

His Highness wasn’t sleeping yet; he was sitting next to the fire, barely dressed, deep in a book. He didn’t even lift his head, when they walked in; only when Havoc coughed pointedly, did the prince close his book.

“Your Grace — Master Elric,” Havoc bowed, and Ed followed suit.

Prince Roy smiled. “Edward? How lovely. Hope Jean didn’t wake you, though.”

Ed felt himself blushing slightly. “He didn’t, Your Highness. I wasn’t sleeping yet. You wished to talk to me?”

“Ah, yes. Please, ‘Your Grace’ is more than enough, Ed. Can I call you Ed?” When Ed nodded, the prince continued, “I wanted to learn more about you, and also for you to learn more about me. I know, you’re not at all happy about this appointment, but it’s temporary, isn’t it? Four or five years, and then you’ll be back to your life again.”

That tone Ed didn’t like at all; it was bad enough that the prince refused to tell them the name of his love, but to be so ready to die… Something was off about it.

“That is my duty, good sir,” — Ed bowed, — “what did you want to know, Your Grace?”

“Your duty will be to be my nanny, I assume. You grew up at my sister’s court, right? I recall seeing you and your brother there, albeit I have to confess, I am not sure if I was able to tell you apart before you moved to Central. Isn’t your mother my sister’s lady-in-waiting?”

“She’s the Mistress of Robes at Her Highness’ court, sir. The princess was so kind to offer her a position after my grandparents… After they disowned her. For marrying my father.” Ed clenched his fists, hiding them behind his back. That still drove him around the bend: how they left Trisha on her own when she dared to follow her heart. The prince frowned.

“Is that why… oh, I see. But a petal marriage knows no social status, right?.. Oh, that is horribly unfair, I must admit. And you have no estate in your name, right? Not entitled to even inherit Elrics’ lands… Aren’t they those Elrics from the East? Jean, you must know them, don’t you?”

Havoc coughed. “I do know them, Your Grace. My family used to live on their lands, so we’d bowed to them for years. Not nice people, I must say, sir. Not kind to us, were they.”

“Do you want their estate, Ed?” The prince smiled at Ed, mischief in his eyes. Ed shook his head.

“I don’t care. We are fine on our own. Don’t need their charity.”

The prince laughed, amused. “Fine. I see. Anyway, here’s what I wanted to talk about. My condition is to be kept secret from anybody but my brother, my retinue and Van Hohenheim. Your brother, though… I hope he’s not too talkative. My sister, Lady Chris, and especially the queen should not know, no matter how nicely they ask and how worried they look. Your mother is also out of question — she’s my sister’s closest friend, and I can’t let Izumi know. Not yet, at least. That much is clear?”

Ed nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Good. Moving on. You’ll be given lodgings down the hall. If needed, you’ll be moved to my Privy Chamber, but I hope it can be avoided for next two or three years at least. You are to accompany me when I’m leaving the palace. When I’m here, you’re mostly free to do your own thing, only checking on me in the morning and in the evening. Although it will be appreciated if you’re with us on the training grounds. Are you good with weapons? I assume you’re not; you’ll be taught in case it’s needed. You’ll dine and sup with my retinue, when the hall is kept. But often we sup in the city or here, in private setting. You’ll get fabric for clothes befitting your current position… Is your mother sewing your shirts? She’ll get fabric as well. The armor hopefully you won’t need, but I hope I’ll be able to return to Ishval soon, and I’m afraid you’ll have to follow me there. Any questions so far?”

“None, sir.”

The prince nodded, satisfied. “If you’ll have any questions, you can go to Jean — or to anybody in my retinue, actually, they all can help you adjust to the changes. That’s all for today — now good night, Ed. We’ll see each other in the morning.”

Ed bowed and left; Havoc — Jean — followed him to the hallway.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Jean smiled and put his hand on Ed’s shoulder. “You’ll get used to it fast enough. Don’t hesitate to ask me or anybody else, though, — we’re all glad to help. Now go; I’ll come fetch you in the morning.”

 

The next morning came sooner than Ed would have appreciated; Jean knocked on his door too early for Ed’s liking. But he didn’t rush Ed as Ed was dressing in haste; rather, he chatted to Al, telling him an amusing story he heard from Lady Rebecca. When Ed declared himself ready, Jean lead him back to the prince’s chambers — walked right through the dining chamber, the privy chamber into the prince’s bedroom.

The prince was already awake — dressed only in his shirt and hose, with no boots on, he was sitting at a small table, writing what seemed like a letter, not stopping even at the sound of door being opened.

“Morning, Ed,” — the prince finally turned to him, — “I hope you like early mornings.” He put the quill down and took his shirt off, baring his torso. Ed sighed. He would gladly sleep in — at this season mornings were extremely unpleasant.

“I’ll manage,” Ed mumbled, taking out an ear trumpet. The prince stood up, letting Ed listen to his breathing. At first Ed didn’t hear anything, though; but then the prince coughed a bit, not a racking cough Ed heard before, and Ed could clearly hear the distinctive rustle in his chest. The plants growing; then the flowers would appear, and the prince’d start coughing petals and blood.

Ed sighed again, withdrawing. Even with his dislike to the prince he found the entire situation incredibly sad: the second most powerful man in the country, dying at such a young age. How old was he? Not thirty yet, right? About a decade older than Ed himself. At his prime — and he likely wouldn’t make it to forty.

The prince put his shirt back on — thinnest linen with exquisite embroidery, most likely done by either Lady Chris or Lady Izumi. “Will you breakfast with us?” he asked nonchalantly. Ed shrugged. Usually he skipped breakfast at all — had more interesting things to do with his time. But now… why not, indeed.

The prince smiled at him. “Send the servants for some food, Jean,” — he ordered, — “let them set the table for us.”

Jean nodded and ushered Ed outside, to the privy chamber, where the rest of the retinue sat. The pallets were hidden already, and everybody looked too cheerful for that hour of the day; Ed recognised some faces, but he didn’t know the names. Jean introduced him quickly and left to the kitchen; Ed stayed there, feeling very out of place.

The first to speak was — Breda, he introduced himself; the rest followed. They all had titles, of course, albeit not higher than a baron; Ed was told not to use them, though. In the prince’s circle they all were equals, no matter their title or rank. That was, to Ed’s liking, very odd. Most courtiers went impossible lengths to get a title, and they certainly wouldn’t ignore it; but, well, the prince’s retinue could afford that.

Jean returned; the prince emerged from his bedroom, already dressed, and gave Fuery several envelopes. “To be sent,” he explained and led them all to the dinner chamber, where bread and cheese was already served.

 

That first morning set the rhythm: Ed would wake up too early and check on the prince; then they’d all share a meal and go find something to do. Usually before dinner they’d hunt — although Ed would hardly call that hunting; often they just stopped somewhere and talked, or just enjoyed the calmness of the nature. Sometimes the king with his gentlemen accompanied them; on days like these Ed prefered to ride next to Mason, who just recently moved to Central from Lady Izumi’s court; they knew each other for years, and Mason was good enough for when Al wasn’t around. Ed also watched the king — he silently admired King Zolf from afar, for he was indeed a remarkable man: wise, not quick to anger, heartless — but not cruel. In the world where feeling too much could kill you, only people like King Zolf — cold, sane, always in control of their emotions, — could survive. And still he was capable of kindness — Ed saw him with his wife, Queen Riza, his closest and most trusted friend; they luckily avoided all dangers of passion, but they loved each other — of course, as much as people like them could love anyone. And, apparently, King Zolf truly loved his foolish brother — that much was obvious from their interactions.

The retinue of said foolish brother also loved him despite everything — Jean Havoc almost started a physical fight once, when somebody in the city mentioned the prince in an unflattering way. Others weren’t so physically aggressive, but they were very protective of the prince nonetheless, even though the prince insisted he can take care of himself. His retinue, however, paid it no mind; they thought it their responsibility to remind him that he should be careful. Fuery confessed to Ed once that in Ishval the prince was even worse — dedicating all his time to military training, forgetting to eat, not sleeping enough. Now his training time was limited by other responsibilities, but still the prince spent too much time on the training grounds — either with his flame-bladed sword, or with a straight sword; often he trained with knives and daggers against Earl of Wellesley, who was a known master in that. Havoc trained the prince in archery; despite the fact that the prince barely would use such a bow in a battle, his lack of skill seemed to annoy him.

That seemed to be one of his most noticeable traits: the prince strived to succeed, albeit only in things he thought important for him. Maybe it was his vanity, that didn’t let him deal with being not good enough in things like wrestling and archery, or it was something else — Ed didn’t really bother with thinking about his underlying motives, more focused on his own task. That, though, was in conflict with Prince Roy’s goals and tasks; Ed was instructed by Van Hohenheim to get the prince to rest more, but the prince was restless — he was nearly always busy with something. Breda insisted it was usual for him; Farman was worried the prince was trying to get as many things done as he could before the petals killed him. Whatever it was, it was bad for the prince: the cough repeated several times a week, usually after a day of physical exercise; it was a happy coincidence that the court didn’t know yet of his illness.

But Ed couldn’t do much: Van Hohenheim reminded him on regular basis that the prince’s fate is in his own hands; Ed couldn’t save him if the prince didn’t want to be saved. All Ed could do was to give him tisanes and strengthening pills; the prince didn’t listen to his advice about getting rest anyway.

 

The closest to slowing down that the prince did was visiting the queen and her ladies-in-waiting; he and his retinue, the rowdy bunch, usually stormed in her chambers with a sole purpose to distract and interrupt; but Queen Riza didn’t mind. Ed knew they were childhood friends, raised together, but he never was curious about it; now he was learning more. The queen grew up with her father, Sir Berthold Hawkeye, son-in-law of the current Lord High Chancellor; and her father was the prince’s childhood teacher after his parents died. 

Apparently, it was expected that they’d get married; but she accepted King Zolf’s proposal. Al was convinced the prince was still in love with her; Ed disagreed. The prince surely loved her, but as a sister, nothing more; she returned the feeling.

Still, her company calmed him down for some time — enough time, at least, for Ed to catch his breath; slowly Ed caught himself thinking that he likes these quiet afternoons with the queen and her ladies. In Dublith he and Al were often spending time with Lady Izumi and her circle; Queen Riza’s afternoons reminded him of it.

The prince, however, was not fully satisfied; even with all his activities, hunting, training, jousting, he was still not busy enough; he complained to Ed several times during their regular check-ups that he’s ‘wasting time’ at the court. Ed agreed; however, for his condition wasting time was preferred compared to what Prince Roy wanted — to go back to Ishval to fight. Luckily, the news from Ishval was good — Aerugovians were still too scared to try to attack again, and Basque Grand, the Margrave of Dar Rheos, reported that everything was in perfect order. He was not yet notified of the prince’s condition; the king thought it unwise. No need to raise panic; the prince wasn’t dying yet. Still, the prince was treated as too fragile to fight, and King Zolf wanted to keep him close. Visiting Lady Chris or Lady Izumi was also out of question: one coughing fit, and the cat would be out of the bag.

The prince, however, persisted; finally the king gave up.

“Jay said I’m allowed to visit a garrison of my choice!” the prince proclaimed one day, returning to his chambers where the retinue was playing dice. Everybody groaned; Ed looked around, confused.

“Which garrison is that?” he asked. The prince smiled, extremely satisfied with himself.

“Briggs! I love that one, you know? My favorite after Dar Rheos.”

Ed clenched his fists. “Briggs? The coldest place in the whole country? In mid-spring? In your condition, when you’re supposed to avoid all dangers so you won’t catch a cold? Are you out of your mind, Your Grace?”

The prince pouted. “I’m not that sick yet to catch a cold from every breeze.”

“These breezes in the North are said to destroy villages, aren’t they?” Ed mused, looking straight at the prince.

“Alright then, doc. Tell me, when I can go to Briggs. In the summer, while the court is progressing, and the war in Ishval is breaking out? In the autumn, when northern chilly winds are the strongest? In the winter, when it’s freezing so that even Drachmans can’t stand it? And my condition isn’t getting better, so it’s likely that you’ll just lock me inside when the winter comes. Let me go, so I could at least say goodbye to Olivier and her crew. For hell’s sake, I want to feel  _ alive _ , and I surely won’t if I am chained to my nurses!”

Ed signed. His arguments were sound — and still Ed wasn’t enthusiastic about the trip.

“Will it make you feel better for some time?” he asked hopelessly. The moodiness and melancholy were dangerous in Prince Roy’s case; these flowers poisoned patient’s bodily humors, and many and many ended up dying not from the flowers blocking the air, but rather killed themselves, drowned in their grief and sadness. Entertaining the patient was important; if a trip to the North can keep the prince alive for longer, they should definitely grab the chance until King Zolf changed his mind.

“Promise we’ll return if the disease progresses too fast,” Ed finally said. The prince nodded.

“Of course. Do you have any fitting clothes?”

Ed made a face. “No. Only for Central’s winter, but I suppose Briggs in April is much colder.”

Prince Roy laughed. “Oh yes, yes it is! That is not an issue, though. Decide how many things you will need, and take half of those. We travel light, so you better get used to it. I’ll give a list to your father of things Olivier ordered, he’ll know.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Fine. If he wanted it that much, Ed’d have to deal with it. And still, his choice of place was weird; Briggs wasn’t a place where people went on their own accord. Ed had heard that in the winter there are days when the sun doesn’t rise at all, and in the summer it can shine for several days without setting; and a lot had been said about the freezing cold.

Alright; Ed’d see for himself. Who knew — what if he liked it? He was afraid of Central’s winter in the first year, but it turned out to be quite nice; when their father had lured him and Al outside to have a snowball fight soon after arrival, they stayed there playing till the dark. Maybe Briggs would be nice too; at least Ed had a feeling his new friends will enjoy some snowballs.


	2. Chapter 2

Preparations for the travel north took time; luckily the prince was busy with it and mostly left Ed alone. He was supposed to bring Margrave Armstrong some important letters and precious cargo of southern fruits — to avoid scurvy among the garrison troops.

Ed was not involved in those preparations: he was measured for some winter clothes, but other than that he had nothing to do. Van Hohenheim personally took care of ordering all the medicines the prince could possibly need during their trip, so Ed enjoyed freedom. He — for the first time in several weeks — had a chance to spend more than a few minutes with his brother, whom he missed dearly; but that was not just Prince Roy’s fault, though. The queen declared she was expecting a child in the middle of summer, and Al — as his father’s only apprentice and assistant — was preparing for his first royal delivery. Of course, for Queen Riza it was the fourth child already — either a second son or a third daughter, — but Al had no previous experience in this field, and Van Hohenheim decided it was a perfect opportunity for him to learn.

“I am dreaming about childbirth at night,” Al confessed, climbing onto Ed’s bed. They used to share a bed before — but now they slept apart, and Ed was slowly getting used to that. At least now nobody kicked him at night. “How is working for His Highness?”

“His Grace,” Ed corrected out of habit. “It’s tolerable. Better than I thought.”

It was indeed better, if only slightly; Prince Roy was not as arrogant with his retinue as with the rest of the court. Sometimes he even appeared human and likeable — but Ed preferred to ignore those thoughts. They almost didn’t argue — Ed kept his mouth shut about Ishval, partly because it didn’t come up yet, partly because he suspected the information he had before wasn’t complete.

The most difficult part was convincing the prince that he has to rest; but his illness was developing slowly, and there were good chances he would confess before his lungs are destroyed by the plants. He didn’t name the name though; that was the only topic that made him snap in Ed’s presence. Even Hughes got scolded for asking the question, so the rest of the retinue didn’t even try.

Al listened to him closely, nodding and chuckling at appropriate moments; he seemed mildly amused.

“You’re becoming a courtier, aren’t you?” He asked with a smile; Ed shook his head.

“I don’t really want to. But his retinue… they’re not really courtiers, you know? Not like most of the people here. His Grace met most of them in the army, picked up good soldiers — like Jean, he is the best archer I’ve ever heard of, and he definitely is not a courtier material.”

“And I heard Prince Roy doesn’t really care about court rules, right?”

Ed nodded. “He told me once that he grew up away from court, and most of court rules make no sense to him. The king wants him to have his own household, his own little court like Lady Izumi and Lady Chris have, but he refuses to — says his life is in garrisons anyway.

“And it’s not like there’s a lot of that life left,” he added quietly, remembering the prince’s words. “He’s too ready to die. Like it’s a logical outcome — something he was always ready for, just didn’t know when the time comes, and now he knows. I don’t like it, Al, makes me uncomfortable. I don’t know who that person is, whom he’s coughing for, but I doubt they’re nice.”

Al shrugged. “Or they are nice, but not in love with him, and he doesn’t want to pressure them — because imagine, somebody powerful is dying because they love you, and you don’t wish them to die, but you just do not love them — I don’t know, it’s a terrible situation to be in. Maybe he doesn’t want his love to be in this situation. But honestly, I’d bet he’s in love with some jerk who just doesn’t care. Or somebody openly in love with another — remember that poor guy who fell for Lady Rebecca not knowing she was married to Lady Maria already?”

“That guy was rejected early enough in his illness and avoided most consequences, but with His Grace it’s not an option. He’s too stubborn — I don’t know what must happen for him to confess. His love confessing first, I think? But it’s unlikely.”

Al nodded and flopped on the bed. “So you have a patient who’s incurable unless he wants to, and I have a patient who doesn’t need my help at all. But you know how it is — if all goes well you don’t even need a doctor, and if it goes wrong then even the best physician may not be able to help. Still, father thinks I must have experience — even though I doubt Lady Pinako will let me close.”

“Is she coming?” Lady Pinako Rockbell, the royal midwife, was the best in the land — but lately she distanced herself from court service, staying in the country with young prince and princesses as their governess. Her granddaughter, Lady Winry, was Ed’s and Al’s childhood friend — back in the days she used to live at Lady Izumi’s court with her parents; from what Ed had heard, now she was to move to Queen Riza’s chambers as one of her maids of honor. Good; he missed her dearly.

“She’ll bring the kids, too. To celebrate the birth of their sibling, and for Prince Thomas to be breeched — he’s said to get a title of his own. The court won’t go on progress this summer, so the queen is already busy planning entertainments.”

“Yes, I remember some talks about it… the retinue makes bets on whether His Grace will be able to joust in the summer. There’s no way they can pull off a proper celebration without a tournament or two, and he always jousts, but now… If his illness becomes known, it will cause us all a lot of trouble.”

“Take my bet as well — I declare he’ll be forbidden to joust by the king and will be livid about it, so he’ll end up jousting anyway. The king lets him do anything he wants — like this trip to Briggs. The coldest place in the country — and he lets his sick brother to go there! And his brother goes there on his own free will, not because he was ordered to!”

“Well, he’s quite excited about the trip. From what I’ve heard, he’d been there before, and he knows Margrave quite well. If it cheers him up, fine; if it doesn’t…”

Ed was interrupted by the knocking on the door. “Enter!” he commanded, and the door opened, letting a servant with a big box in.

“From His Highness,” the servant bowed and opened the box. Ed came closer and took its content out — a luxurious gown, black with red visible in the slashes, lined with golden fox fur.

“For your trip, sir,” the servant explained, bowing again. Ed gave him a coin, and the servant disappeared. Al jumped off the bed.

“This is gorgeous,” he said, touching the fur lightly, “put it on!”

Ed obeyed; the gown was fitted perfectly, light and warm at the same time. And with red underneath the black fabric instead of usual blue; Ed didn’t mention it to the tailor, so that must be the prince’s doing. The prince took a lot of care with his clothes — the fabric Ed got when he was appointed to the prince was either of true black color, an extremely expensive dye, that Ed couldn’t afford before, or of dark red color of Elrics’ house, Ed’s favorite. The prince’s retinue wore black with Amestrian blue; frankly, Ed had expected he’d have to wear blue too. But the prince never mentioned Ed’s preference for red, albeit he undoubtedly noticed it. Ed shivered; this thought was unsettling. Did prince Roy pay attention to him? Why would he? Although it did fall in line with his general attitude towards his retinue, but Ed hadn’t expected to be so easily accepted.

Again — there was something off about it all. Ed had been misinformed about the prince, and now he was seeing more things he never noticed before; he fought it, but with little success.

Al smirked. “You look confused. Don’t you like it?”

“I do,” Ed frowned. “It’s beautiful, but I don’t understand why would he bother. I don’t understand at all, why he bothers — he never struck me as somebody who would care about others, and yet…” He waved around. “It’s just strange, you know?”

“So he’s not as bad as you thought. Big deal. Just don’t fall for him because of that, okay?” Al mock-punched him, and Ed caught his hand.

“I won’t!” he snapped, and Al laughed.

“Okay, okay! But be careful with that. You’re too stubborn to be a nice patient, and I officially refuse to  _ ever _ treat you, if you fall sick.”

Ed snorted. “I am not going to fall in love with anybody, especially with His Grace. And listen, even if I do fall in love, I hope it will be requited. I have no wish to die young, and I definitely won’t be as stubborn as the prince with his refusal to confess.”

 

After Al left for his studies, Ed went to find the prince to thank him; he walked to his chambers without knocking — because none of the retinue knocked, it was always assumed he’s ready to receive them or he’d just lock the door, — and stopped when he saw the prince sitting on the floor next to King Zolf himself, braiding his hair. Ed froze in place, and the king snorted, noticing him.

“Your Majesty,” Ed bowed deeply, and the king just waved him off. 

“Good day to you too, Master Elric,” he smiled, unusually relaxed, and winced when Prince Roy tugged his hair.

“It’s too early for a check-up,” the prince said, absently, returning to his task, and Ed gulped, feeling very out of place.

“I wanted to thank you for your gift, Your Grace,” he said, and the prince chuckled.

“Don’t. That’s nothing. I hope you like it, though, and that you stay warm in Briggs. Won’t be sufficient for their winters, of course, but must do in April.”

King Zolf laughed shortly. “I don’t know why you like that frozen hell so much. I’ve been there once and decided it was more than enough. Too cold for me, and you spent what, three, four years in there?”

“And you were in Briggs in mid-July, yes. On a warm year,” the prince grinned, very amused. “You get used to the cold. Just like in Ishval you get used to the heat, and in the West you get used to the rain, and in the East you get used to the sheep. People adjust to everything, if given time.” He looked straight at Ed, and Ed smiled uncomfortably. “Do you like it?” the prince asked suddenly, pointing at his brother’s head; Ed stepped closer to take a better look on the complicated braid the prince was plaiting.

“It’s beautiful. I didn’t know you can do that,” Ed confessed, and Prince Roy laughed.

“I used to do Riza’s hair. Can do yours too, if you want.”

“Not now, thank you, Your Grace.” Usually Ed did his hair himself; complicated things required Al’s assistance though, or at least a double mirror. “What else can you do, that I don’t know about?”

“A lot of things,” the prince smiled. “At least, a lot of things a prince shouldn’t know how to do.”

“Because you’re a farm boy,” the king elbowed him, and Ed smiled — it was too domestic, a lot like his bickering with Al.

“That I am, indeed,” Prince Roy laughed, going back to braiding his brother’s hair, “and I am proud of it.”

They continued talking; Ed bowed again and left them to it. The king was busy often, and Ed didn’t want to deprive him of an opportunity to spend time with his brother.

 

But that was not all for today; when Ed headed to Van Hohenheim’s study, he was stopped by Lady Strongina, Queen Riza’s maid of honor.

“Her Majesty wishes to talk to you,” she said, curtsying to him. Even with her knees bent she was still a head taller than Ed; but honestly, too many people at court were taller than him.

Ed nodded. “Lead the way, my lady.”

Lady Strongina lead him straight to the queen’s chambers, where the rest of the ladies were embroidering; the queen put her work aside and smiled to Ed.

“Master Elric,” she said, and then turned to the ladies. “Leave us,” she ordered, and the women obediently left the room. “I have a question for you, Master Elric — Ed. How far gone is the prince’s illness?”

Ed opened his mouth and closed it again. She was not supposed to know about it — who told her?.. Somebody of Prince Roy’s retinue? The king himself? Or a servant saw too much, and now they’ll have to deal with the rumors?

The queen sighed. “I nursed my father, when he was dying of the petal disease. I know what it looks like, and I know Roy too well not to see his condition. I only want to know your estimation.”

Ed took a deep breath. “Five to six years. But I suspect it may develop faster if he’s often face to face with the person he’s coughing for.”

“And you don’t know who that may be? I see. Did Jay ask you to find that out?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. But His Grace says nothing, only that he’s not going to confess his love.” The retinue made guesses, of course; but none of the options could explain his stubbornness.

“So he’s going to die. I can’t say I didn’t expect that, though,” the queen mused, going back to her embroidery — a jay bird with feathers of Amestrian blue pecking a pomegranate — traditional symbol of Aerugo. “He’s always been stubborn, and we all knew he’ll die young, either of the petal disease or in a battle. I hoped he had more time, though. But now we have to plan accordingly…”

Ed stared at her. “Aren’t you… I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but aren’t you sad about it?”

She shrugged. “I am angry at him, to be honest. But that anger is of no use. I can’t make him confess, I can’t cure him — and I know that you can’t, too. All I  _ can _ do now, is to plan our future knowing he won’t be around for long, and that is exactly what I’m going to do.”

That was — sane. A little too cold, maybe, but Ed saw her reasoning; the king thought similarly, and that was why they made such an efficient pair. Still, seeing the prince’s closest friend being so at ease with his imminent death was unsettling. They all knew he’d die young — with his temper it was a logical assumption to make, and perhaps, it explained why Prince Roy himself was so ready to accept death. He knew it was nearby; why fight inevitable?

 

The prince didn’t seem to care, though. Their travel north occupied his mind, and when they finally left Central City, Prince Roy was on the edge from impatience. Briggs Castle was in three days’ ride from the capital, and they had a route planned with all places, where they could stop. The prince did indeed travel light — semi-incognito, in fact, without any entourage except for his retinue, without his standard; only rich clothing betrayed his high status.

Ed got influenced by his excitement; he had never been up north, so now he was absorbing new information, trying to pay attention to everything; he rode next to Vato Falman, who grew up in the North, peppering him with questions.

Is it true, that in the winter the sun doesn’t shine? Not really, it only happens in the northern Drachma, where it’s too cold for people to live. Is it true, that wild bears are walking the streets in the northern towns? Not really, they are mostly avoiding humans, and besides, they sleep for half a year anyway.

Everything around was new: snow still lying on the ground, much less fields; not many crops grew up here, and most of the people’s income came from chopping down their pine forests and mining in the mountains. 

The North City was a lot like Central, though, albeit smaller — and colder, but the gown Ed had been given saved him from the worst of it; but the prince didn’t even notice the cold, walking around with his gown and jerkin unfastened, with no hat on. No arguments could force him to wrap up; he insisted that he wasn’t cold at all. But truth be told, he didn’t cough either for all three days of their journey; that was surely a good sign. 

It was getting dark on the third day, when the prince leaned forward and pointed out a dark shade in the snow-covered mountains.

“That’s the Briggs castle,” he shouted without turning back to his retinue, “we should hurry to make it to the castle before they close the gate!”

Ed urged his horse forward, following the lead; they raced to the castle, and Breda was the one who made it first — desperate for warmth, he said, not a fan of the North either. The guard stopped them though, but stepped aside when Prince Roy waved to him.

“Sergeant,” the guard nodded and signalled to his pals to open the big gate. “Margrave is waiting for you.”

The Margrave was indeed waiting right behind the gate — a small woman in a huge fur coat, surrounded by tall men in shiny breastplates.

“Sergeant Mustang,” she smiled coldly. “Why didn’t you bring Captain with you?”

Prince got off the horse and walked to Lady Olivier to hug her. “He decided to stay with his family this time. He sends his best wishes to you. Not that you need his wishes, but still.”

“And you got somebody new. One of the Elric brothers, right?” She looked Ed over, frowning. “Where’s the second one?”

Prince Roy laughed, walking with her to the doors. “I only got one. Edward, the eldest. You’ll like him, I’m sure.” What he said next, made Lady Olivier burst out laughing too, but his words were lost to Ed: the retinue was busy unsaddling the horses, and Ed joined them. The soldiers didn’t help — they watched, as if it was a funny performance: clumsy southerners with their frostbitten fingers trying to perform a simple task. Eventually though Ed and his friends managed to do what they had to and —as a reward — they were led into the castle.

Inside it was not much warmer; Ed shuddered when he imagined how cold it must be in the winter. Another soldier told them where to go, and Havoc rushed forward, mumbling profanities. Ed was inclined to agree — locals seemed to be arrogant, and Ed didn’t like them at all. The place, though, was beautiful — or rather, it had that charm of savage, untamed power. Briggs had been a forpost for generations, and these walls had seen a lot; several times it was burnt and rebuilt, and it was sieged no less than a dozen times in past two centuries — the Briggs Mountains were mostly a natural barrier between Drachma and Amestris, and here it was the only place where the border could be crossed. The traders preferred the Western tradeway, though, in the northern part of Western area, there the mountains became hills.

In the dinner chamber the table was already set; it was slightly warmer here, and Ed shed his fur gown with a sigh of relief. The prince had taken his gown off as well — and no jerkin, and doublet unfastened; if he doesn’t catch a cold while they are here, Ed should find a deity to thank them for this miracle.

Lady Olivier clicked her tongue, looking over the retinue; for her the prince’s retinue must have been a miserable sight. Her own soldiers were obviously better accustomed to these temperatures; but Ed’s fingers were numb, and his cheeks were ice-cold to touch.

The supper wasn’t luxurious; and while Ed ate, he watched the prince talking to Lady Olivier, trying to determine what kind of relationship they had. Gossips said he was her lover back in the days, and Ed could clearly see the intimacy and affection; but now they behaved more like good friends with some past. It was unlikely that Prince Roy would cough for her; but if he was… Ed vowed to himself to keep an eye on him: to watch if the prince coughs more when next to Lady Olivier.

Why did she call him a sergeant though? Sergeant Mustang, she said; and so did the guard at the gate. Highly unusual; but so far nobody seemed to treat Prince Roy accordingly to his high status, and he didn’t insist; perhaps it was how things worked at Briggs.

 

The rooms were sparsely furnished, as Ed had expected; at least there were rooms, with actual beds, and not barracks with creaking cots. The prince was placed in his own chamber, with his retinue staying in the adjacent room; Ed was given the bed closest to the door, so he could wake up and rush to the prince in case his help was needed.

The fire was already lit, but the rooms were still freezing cold; Ed had insisted on warming prince’s shirts next to the fire, and a young soldier — a teen, maybe a couple of years younger than Ed, — was now busy with it, while Ed was performing a usual examination. The rustling was softer today — the thrill of their journey must have helped. As Ed was standing up, his hair accidentally brushed Prince Roy’s stomach — and he tensed immediately, grinding his teeth.

“I’m sorry,” Ed mumbled, and the prince smiled sadly.

“It’s alright. You don’t seem to like it here, do you?”

Ed shrugged, putting his ear trumpet away. “I haven’t thought of it yet. I don’t like the cold, but the castle is beautiful. And the landscape is said to be incredible, so I was planning to take a look in the morning — hopefully I’ll convince Kain or Jean to show me around.”

The prince chuckled. “I could show you around, if you want. I know every corner here. I mean, if you’re interested.”

Ed smiled. “It’s very kind of you, sir. You’ve lived here, right? I remember His Majesty mentioning it.”

“I served here, yes,” the prince corrected, putting his shirt back on; the soldier bowed and left, leaving them alone. “For almost four years. I was… ah, eighteen, when I first arrived here, not as a prince, but… You see, I had that idea that if I tell people that I’m a prince they’ll never treat me as their equal, and I had always wanted peers, not servants. So I used a fake name — almost fake, I was called Roy Mustang then… Mustang after Mustang Hall in Pendleton, where I grew up. And I was set to enlist as a sergeant, since I was ‘poor gentry’,” he showed the quotation marks with his fingers, “but I got into an argument with Captain Hughes — that was how we met, — so I was demoted to a soldier and put in his squad. Olivier was the only one who knew who I really was, and when I revealed myself… well, nobody really changed their attitude towards me?”

Ed snorted. Being demoted for a stupid argument was very prince-like.

“Was it good? That they haven’t changed their opinion on you.”

“Yes. In Briggs titles mean nothing, really. They respect people based on their achievements, and I had those as well. Nobody cares where you came from, who your parents are, what’s you story. Only what you did here matters. I like that a lot, to be honest, to be judged not on my blood — that I have nothing to do with, — but on my actions.”

“That is actually… sane,” Ed frowned. “So you found peers here, didn’t you?”

“Yes. And I choose my retinue myself, people I have seen in action. Despite Jay’s attempts to surround me with people of noble blood.”

Ed bit his lip. Prince Roy didn’t choose  _ him _ ; while it was expected, still it hurt a little. But Ed couldn’t help but like his opinion on this: the idea of basing somebody’s worth solely on their blood was ridiculous. Many worthy people came from lower classes, and for all good nobles there were young Bradleys with their uncountable vices.

It was getting late though; Ed bowed to the prince and bid him good night. He’ll think about it more once he’s alone.

 

The morning was not much better. Ed used to have a servant in Central to tend to more menial tasks, and here all he had was the same boy wearing a jack of plate several sizes too big, who had to serve to the whole retinue and the prince.

The rest of their party had no problem with that, though; they all were used to garrison life, even the prince, so Ed was the most spoiled one — a feeling he was not used to. But he was also not used to having water in his washbasin freeze in the morning; hot water was a luxury, because it demanded fuel to boil, so they all had to shave with ice-cold water — and most of the retinue were also able to wash their hair in cold water. Ed’s hair demanded hot or at least warm water though; for the first time in his life he considered cutting it short.

It was not all bad, though. When the sun rose in their first day here, Ed was already awake — Prince Roy had a coughing fit in early morning, and Ed had tended to him, — so he was able to appreciate the beauty of sunrise, with glistening snow and thin fresh air. It had snowed in the night, so the fresh snow covered their traces; it was unbelievably cold to touch, but Ed was mesmerized with snowflakes melting on his skin.

The castle was already awake, of course; night shift went to sleep, and now the morning shift was on duty. In the inner court there was a bustle: the carts with southern fruits had arrived, and now the kitchen staff was unloading all the boxes and baskets.

Ed turned from the window, closing it carefully, and started dressing. He was the only one awake in the room — and, judging by the lack of sound from prince’s chamber, he was asleep as well. Good; Ed needed some time alone with his thoughts. After getting dressed Ed circled their floor and then risked to go outside, on the castle wall.

Outside it was warmer than Ed expected, but still much colder than he’d like; he sniffed miserably and rubbed his palms together. The guards paid him no mind, so Ed chose to ignore their presence too.

The view from the wall was breathtaking: mountains, covered with snow, were… serene, that was the best word for it. None of human worries touched them; and all human worries seemed to be insignificant in face of the nature. Why would they not be, Ed mused to himself, in a century all people who live here now will be dead, and most of them forgotten; the mountains will still be here, unmoved, barely changed. Ed exhaled slowly; the mist of his breath disappeared almost momentarily.

He lost track of the time completely, enraptured in his own thoughts, in this endless beauty; so he haven’t heard the footsteps behind his back.

“There you are,” the prince said softly, touching Ed’s shoulder; Ed jolted away. “Sorry, I didn’t want to scare you.”

“I hoped to return before you woke up,” Ed frowned. “I am sorry. Did anything happen?”

The prince shrugged. “No. Just thought you might be hungry. Do you like the view?” he asked suddenly, catching Ed off-guard; Ed bit his cheek.

“Yes. It’s beautiful. But makes me feel like… like nothing in the world matters, you know? All our troubles are nothing next to all this.”

Prince Roy chuckled and walked to the wall, looking at the mountains. He was dressed appropriately for a change — in his bulky bear coat; Ed had seen several soldiers — officers — wearing similar coats here.

“When I was here, I often felt helpless,” Prince Roy said quietly, and Ed stood next to him to hear him better. “We are but tiny humans, what can we do when facing something so… something like that,” he waved his hand. “Why even care, when our actions won’t  _ really _ affect anything? But, I think, it was soon after I met Maes, I came to see it other way around. Yes, we are small and weak, but we can at least do something good for other small and weak humans, can’t we? Help somebody, so that somebody would help another one. And besides — Sergeant Mustang can’t do a lot, has no power to do so, but a prince…” He stumbled over his words, still avoiding Ed’s gaze. “Here, in Briggs, it’s serene. Nothing really changes, all Drachman attacks are useless. Our biggest enemy here is the cold, and there’s nothing we can do about it. Many of locals are fatalists — either we live or we die, so we accept life as it is and don’t bother with changing our ways. But in Ishval I actually can do something useful — the war is almost over, and I hope I’ll live to see the peace. I know you don’t agree, but I hope you’ll see it with your own eyes and come to your own conclusions.”

Ed sighed. “I am wary about Ishval, because Xerxes had made the same mistake before. And now Xerxes doesn’t even exist anymore — just a lot of people with no home land, with no place to call their own.”

“It was another dynasty then. Bradleys were cruel kings, and Xerxes was precisely why they got replaced. My brother is nothing like them. I mean, yeah, Jay can be cruel when needed, but he’s rational — he knows exactly what he’s doing and what will it get him.”

“He keeps the eldest Bradley around, though. Made him the King’s Guard — despite his claim on the throne.” Ed always thought it peculiar — why would King Zolf trust the man who still seemed to think the throne should belong to him and his family? But he must have had his own reasons; Ed haven’t yet suspected King Zolf in being short-sighted.

“Lord Bradley has no personal interest in becoming a king. His first wife dreamt of being a queen, it’s true; she passed that to her children. But his second wife? She couldn’t care less about the title, and he agrees with her. He’s loyal to the king — more accurately, he is loyal to our aunt, Lady Chris. And when our parents died… you weren’t even born or were too little to remember, but some nobles advocated restoring Bradleys to the throne, and Lady Chris was capable of silencing them — with Lord Bradley’s support, surprisingly.

“We — our dynasty — are intruders, Xingese nobility that managed to get the throne, and there are still families that would like us gone. As they would like Xerxesians and Ishvalans gone. But, well, you see — none of us really have any place to return to. I am not Xingese enough, the first of my ancestors to step on Amestrian soil already wasn’t Xingese enough — because he decided to leave Xing, becoming unworthy of eve returning. You have no Xerxes anymore; Ishvalans have a battlefield instead of peaceful home for their children. I can’t restore Xerxes, not without help; but I can do something for Ishval, and I  _ will _ .” The prince sighed heavily. “It’s egotistic, I know. My wish to change something grows from my wish to feel good about myself.”

“Well, as long as it works for you,” Ed shrugged. He was still not entirely accepting the prince’s position, but it slowly became more clear. He could see Prince Roy’s reasons; yet he needed more information. To see Ishval with his own eyes, to be able to come to his own conclusions — Ed appreciated that Prince Roy understood his reluctance.

“Let’s go inside. You must be cold already,” the prince offered, smiling, with only a hint of sadness in his eyes, and Ed nodded. He was not  _ terribly _ cold yet, but he would really like something warm for breakfast.

 

The castle walls soon became Ed’s favorite place in the entire castle; sometimes Kain or Heymans joined him, or even the prince himself — he refused to be inside for too long, claiming that he had survived the coldest seasons, and that spring breezes won’t harm him. Ed couldn’t agree — the rustling was slowly getting louder. Too fast for this stage; the disease should not have developed with such speed, unless the prince kept some important information from them. Still, Ed had weighed the possibility that the prince was coughing for Lady Olivier, and found it to be too small; whatever happened in their past, it had stayed there. 

The cough was still here, though; most nights Prince Roy was capable of dealing with it himself, but several times during their stay in Briggs Ed had to help him — or, rather, to bring him tisanes and to sit with him until the prince fell back asleep. Sometimes Ed didn’t leave as soon as Roy’s breath evened out; he stayed for longer, listening to his breath, watching his chest go up and down. In his sleep the prince looked even younger — he was almost thirty, but Ed could easily assume they were only a couple of years apart.

At least, his sleep was peaceful for now; on the later stages he would be insomniac, unable to fall asleep without calming mixtures, waking up from nightmares. In four or five years — but Ed was almost sure his disease will develop faster than in most people, fueled by his passion. Before Ed learned more about him, he used to think that the prince was ill-tempered, but distant, never investing in anything, shallow — but now he could see how deep he was capable of feeling. And how well he hid it from strangers — only those who had spent some time with him could guess what he’s really feeling.

Albeit here, in Briggs, he was calmer than in Central City, the serenity of the landscape obviously affecting him; the mountains, Prince Roy said, humbled him, made him contemplate more. He shared his contemplations with Ed — Ed, to his own amazement, didn’t mind at all, using it as an opportunity to learn more.

Their return to Central was approaching, and the closer it was, the crankier the prince became; Ed suspected that his long meetings with Lady Olivier and her officers were partly to blame.

“She keeps pestering me with questions,” Prince Roy complained once, while they were walking slowly past the wall guards. “Why can’t she understand? Why can’t anybody understand? If I wanted my feelings to be discussed, I would start the talk first. I want to keep my love private, not fly it around. Can’t I just have something for myself?”

“Wait, does Lady Olivier know?” Ed frowned. She wasn’t the gossiping kind, but Ed preferred to secrets to stay as secret as possible. “How? Did you tell her?”

The prince winced. “She knows me,” he lied, not convincing Ed at all. After a tense pause he sighed. “I had a coughing fit at one of the meetings. In private. Nothing serious, handled it myself.”

Ed stared at him, at a loss for words. “A coughing fit during the day? You only had those at night before. When did it happen? When were you going to tell me?”

“I wasn’t going to tell you,” Prince Roy stopped. “You would drag me back to Central in a blink of an eye if you heard about that, wouldn’t you?”

Ed nodded. “And I’m still going to do it. Luckily for you, we are leaving in three days anyway. But wait, what did you mean about having something for yourself, sir? Nobody tries to take your love from you.”

“Oh, don’t they?” the prince resumed walking. “Everybody is asking me, who is that person, why don’t I just confess and be happy, what can they do to convince me to confess… As if it’ll all magically be alright if I confess.”

“Let me guess — it won’t?” Ed looked at him, intrigued. The prince nodded solemnly. “But why?”

The prince sighed again, turning away from Ed. “Because the person I love hates my guts, and there’s nothing I can do about it. My confession will not make it easier. They are not going to turn around and tell me that they secretly love me too, and I… I don’t want to put that burden on them.”

“That burden?..”

It was… well, not exactly unexpected, but still rather sudden. Who would hate the prince that much? To hate him and to make it known; the only person Ed could think of from the top of his head was Lady Solaris Bradley, arguably the worst person at court; but she always had struck Ed as a completely unlovable bitch. How the prince could fall in love with her? How could anybody?

“Imagine a person you can’t stand confessing to you, Ed. You don’t love them, and you have good reasons for that, and still they are dying because  _ they _ love you that much. But you can’t bring yourself to love them back, and even though you know that’s killing them — you can’t order your heart to fall for somebody just to save them. It’s never going to end well, and I don’t want to inflict such torture on a person that I care deeply for.”

“You could… perhaps, fight it?” Ed said, dumbstruck. It was too much to take in — and still it made perfect sense at this moment. The prince shook his head.

“Too late now, I’m afraid. There’s no easy cure, you must know it, and all the medics in the world can’t help me now. So I must finish my business here, and then depart with my conscience clear, letting the secret die with me.”

“It isn’t right,” Ed said helplessly. “It shouldn’t be like this. That person… why would she hate you? I… am I guessing correctly she has a certain political claim? But how…”

“Do you mean Lady Solaris?” the prince chuckled, “oh, no. The person I love… they are not that widely known at court. Wait, did you indeed think I would fall for Lady Solaris? How low you must think of me, Ed!”

Ed shrugged. “She’s the first I thought of. I mean, everybody has their guesses… my brother is convinced it’s Her Majesty, for example. I suspected Lady Olivier, when we first arrived, but now I see it’s not so.”

“She’s not… how do I put it… not my type.” The prince’s lips quirked in a smile. “Although she is a person I respect and care for deeply, but all romantic feelings I could have had for her are long gone now.”

Ed paused before his next step, mentally going through all possible candidates. “Is it… are you… oh, never mind.” It couldn’t be; if the prince was indeed inclined in a… certain way, so to say, it would have been known; most people with such preferences were noted as such, take Sir Frank Archer, who’d been getting a new pretty groom or a musician every two or three months. Though the prince was, of course, affectionate with men of his retinue, it never raised suspicions — he made his interest for women widely known. And he definitely had had something with Lady Olivier — this talk only proved Ed’s suspicions.

The prince didn’t answer at first; after Ed raised his eyebrow, pointedly waiting for an answer, the prince waved his hand. “I’ve said too much,” he frowned, biting his lip. “Excuse me, Edward.” He turned on his heels and left in haste; Ed chose not to follow him.

So Ed was right — the person in question was a man; a man who hated the prince, and who was in the same time considered ‘decent’ by His Grace. And — most likely — he wasn’t sharing the prince’s inclinations. Who could it be… But now old curiosity battled in Ed with a sudden wish to protect Prince Roy’s privacy; he made his reasons to avoid confession clear, and Ed found himself willing to assist. Even though it could be the petal disease poisoning Prince Roy’s mind — still, Ed saw no way it could have been helped.


	3. Chapter 3

Their return from North was uneventful; the day cough didn’t repeat anymore, and Ed let himself relax a little. Central City was still a shock, though, after the calmness of the North; Ed almost regretted returning. But in the capital the spring was blooming; some trees were already in bloom, and many more were just about to follow. Southern fruits from the fresh harvest were sold on the markets; the small banquet for the prince’s return was mostly of fruits and sugar.

The court grew; the Accession day was coming, and many courtiers who had stayed in the country returned to the capital to pay their respect to the king — but also those who had no respect for him came. The young Bradleys, who’ve spent almost a year at Aerugovian court, decided to return to Amestris and now were seen here and there, visiting their ‘party’, bragging about their right to the throne, etc. Most courtiers ignored those claims — King Zolf managed to keep most of the nobles satisfied, and his conflicts with neighbors of Amestris were contained; so Bradleys couldn’t offer anything except their sympathy, and not many people strove for it.

But they did bring with them some peculiarities from Aerugo — like ridiculously big codpieces. Neville Bradley’s codpiece measured almost a foot, for example; but that fashion didn’t take off, ridiculed mercilessly by the king himself and by some of his gentlemen. Lady Solaris’ attempts to introduce tight bodices laced with rigid boning, restricting normal circulation of air, were also unsuccessful — made even worse when one of the younger ladies of her ‘retinue’ fainted, nearly suffocated by her dress.

Their father, Lord Bradley, did little to prevent humiliation of his children; their strained relationship was good enough for when they stayed in another country, but to be in their presence was too much even for him. 

Lady Pinako wasn’t to come until a couple of weeks before the queen was due; but Winry had written to Al already. She was going to join the queen’s Privy Chamber, and Queen Riza requested for her to come earlier to better adjust to court’s rules; Winry had hoped her old friends will help her with that. 

All the social responsibilities that the prince had now fell onto his retinue as well; too many people tried to approach Prince Roy through Ed, thinking that he could influence the prince. Some asked for favors, promising bribes; some tried to use him as a panderer, seeking the prince’s affections. Ed denied them all; he angrily refused to promote any cause he didn’t personally believe in, and besides — if they need help so desperately, then they ought to ask the prince himself; he never refused to listen if he saw people needing his help. And as for pandering — it was not only against Ed’s beliefs, but also completely pointless; Jean told him once that Prince Roy preferred to seek partners himself, without anybody’s guidance.

The worst example of it, though, was when Ed received a letter from his grandparents — they hoped that their grandson could use his great position to help them get what’s theirs — they were in court for some petty case about stolen sheep and damaged fence, and now they sincerely thought that Ed would help them! But Ed decided not even to reply — his mother was perfectly happy as an orphan, and Ed, who had only seen his grandparents once in his life, had no wish to consider them family.

Besides, he was busy; as a part of the prince’s retinue, he had to join the celebrations of the Accession day. This year it was the 15th anniversary, and Queen Riza planned a lot to celebrate the occasion. All ambassadors were invited; all nobles who had gained something under King Zolf’s rule; and most importantly, Lady Chris, the Princess Regent, and Lady Izumi were coming to Central. The prince was hiding his panic quite well, but he was nonetheless panicking; how could he hide his condition from the people who knew him inside and out?

Ed had given up on his attempts to calm Prince Roy down; he did his best to provide him with sufficient care, that was all he could do. But that wasn’t easy — the palace’s apothecary had run out of certain medicines that both the prince and some other patients needed, and Van Hohenheim sent Ed to the city — to visit his usual supplier.

Al came along — he was excited about getting out of the palace; but Ed didn’t share his joy. Their father bought his herbs and mixtures from a man called Nash Tringham, who lived somewhere in the Kanama slums; but Van Hohenheim had confessed once that Nash himself wasn’t really that good. Most of the mixtures were produced by his kids who were approximately of Ed’s and Al’s age. Child prodigies, Van Hohenheim called them; but Ed wasn’t particularly curious.

The slums were not as disgusting as Ed had imagined; it was a poor part of the city, with narrow streets, but it had that cleanliness of poverty; when you have nothing, you at least try to keep your scarce possessions in a good condition.

The house of Tringhams wasn’t that difficult to find; it had a big leaf drawn on the wall, to signify that an apothecary lives here. But the windows were dark and covered in dust, the threshold — incredibly dirty; even the silent pride of clean poverty had deserted that place. Ed winced uncomfortably; he felt very out of place in his luxurious clothes. Now he had to dress according to his status, in black velvet and silk; but even his old clothes that were now remade to fit Al’s measurements were way too good for the dirtiest corner of Kanama slums.

Al was the one to knock; when he received no answer, he opened the creaking door and walked into the darkness; a pale kid of no more than twelve years of age met them inside.

“What do you need, good sirs?” The kid asked, their voice suddenly clear and loud.

Al smiled amiably, always a flirt. “Master Van Hohenheim, the Royal physician, sent us to get medicines.” He gave the kid a list; the kid read it and nodded.

“We have all of these. Do you need something else, sirs?”

The kid was interrupted by a tall boy coming from the back room. He glanced at Ed and Al and frowned; the list in the kid’s hand made the frown even deeper.

“Are you from the palace?” The boy stepped closer to them; now, when Ed could see him closer, he looked more like a man, at least half a head taller than Al, but thin like a stick; Ed felt bad for him for a brief second.

“We are. We are sons and apprentices of Van Hohenheim,” Ed decided against mocking; he was better than that. “He sent us to fetch what he needs.”

The boy read the list carefully. “Fletcher, bring it in,” he ordered, and the kid disappeared in the back room; the boy stayed, watching them.

“Are you Russell?” Al asked, smiling; the boy - Russell - nodded. “Where is your father? We were told to say hello to him as well.”

Russell winced. “He is not well. Is there something you wished to say?”

“Nothing in particular. Just check if he’s alright. But if he’s not… is he sick? Do you want us to take a look?”

Russell shook his head and already opened his mouth to protest — it was seen clearly in his face, — but the kid, Fletcher, returned with a box, too heavy for such a tiny creature to carry. Ed rushed to help, and Fletcher smiled at him.

“Thank you sir,” Fletcher said, still smiling. “Russell, could you please check on father? I can handle it alone.”

Russell almost leaped to the back room; Fletcher shrugged apologetically.

“Do you need help? With your father, I mean,” Al gave Fletcher the money. “No, keep the change. You need to get him a good doctor, if it’s serious.”

Fletcher snorted sarcastically and waved around. “I wish we could. But even the best doctor can’t work miracles, can he? Given we could afford a miracle in the first place.”

Al nodded, saddened. “Yes, I agree. But still… listen, if you and your brother ever need something — anything — don’t hesitate to come to us, okay? Ask for Elric brothers, or for our father. Any time, when it’s needed.”

Fletcher nodded. “Thank you, sir. It’s very kind of you.”

When they walked outside, Ed inhaled deeply, trying to get rid of the strong smell of the ‘shop’ — a lot of dust mixed with the smell of dozens of herbs. The sun outside was blinding — even though at first Ed thought the slums to be dark and shadowy, but now his eyes got used to the darkness of Tringhams’ house. The entire encounter now seemed surreal — even more so once they returned to the main part of the city. Ed adjusted the box; he hoped that it’ll last them a long enough time.

“Poor kids,” Al mused, walking slowly next to Ed without any attempts to help him. “I can’t even imagine what their life is like.”

“Not very nice, I assume,” Ed huffed. “But it was nice of you to offer help, though I don’t think they’re going to use it. Seem to be very proud, at least Russell. He’s about my age, right? And so tall!”

Al giggled. “Why is it surprising? Most people are taller than you. Especially in Briggs, I guess. You didn’t tell me about the trip yet, by the way! Was it good?” He took the box away from Ed, and Ed sighed with relief, rubbing his arms.

“Yes. It’s beautiful. Both the castle and the mountains. But too cold for my liking. Their doctor said, the cold is one of their two top reasons for death. The other, she said, is stupidity, when the soldiers do dangerous things on a dare to find some entertainment at least. She showed me her sketches of various stages of frostbites, very detailed, and of torn off limbs. I copied some of them, I’ll show you when we return.”

Al snorted. “So very you. How was the prince? I thought he would be better, but I don’t see much improvement.”

Ed sighed. “He is… well, it develops too fast. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, I follow all instructions… But at least he didn’t catch a cold!”

“What an achievement. Did he tell you anything?”

Ed stopped, gathering his thoughts. Al wasn’t a gossipy kind — at least, he kept the secrets when it was needed, and besides, Ed needed to talk about what he learned. “He… he said that person hates him. And he… well, he didn’t say it out loud, but he hinted that it might be a man. So now I understand even less.”

“So it’s not Queen Riza,” Al added thoughtfully. “A small relief. Why does he think that man hates him?”

“I have no idea,” Ed said, tired. “I already considered everybody I know, and I’m still at a loss. At least it’s not one of the young Bradleys. But you know, I came to agree with His Grace. He wants to keep it private, and I can see why. As soon as the court learns he’s sick, everybody’ll make guesses, pester him with questions, there’ll be a betting pool… I mean his retinue already has one, but that one he approves of.”

“I need to bet too. Perhaps I’ll be rich!”

Ed elbowed him. “Stop it. He’s dying, and you only see it as entertainment.”

“He’s dying because he’s just as stubborn as you. Oh, that’s an idea. What if it’s you? Most of the court thinks you can’t stand him, you’re a man… You fit the theory.”

“Hey!” Ed frowned. Now  _ that _ was completely unbelievable — somebody like His Grace falling in love with somebody like Ed? No way. “He barely knew my name before I was appointed to him. He told me so himself, that he couldn’t tell us apart. I think a man in love would be able to tell his love apart from their sibling, wouldn’t he?”

Al smiled. “Fine, fine. But I’ll keep it in mind. When did you become so protective, huh? If you’re going to start coughing for him, I want you to think twice!”

“I am not going to cough for anybody, least of all His Grace,” Ed whispered angrily, leaning close to his brother. “And if —  _ if _ — I do, I am not sharing it with you, got it?”

Al’s condescending smirk was insufferable; Ed punched him lightly again and didn’t say a word again until they reached the palace.

 

After the box was delivered, Ed decided to check on Prince Roy; usually he only did that in the morning and before sleep, but something about today’s encounter was unsettling; better go prove himself wrong.

He walked to the Chamber, hoping to find the prince there; they all had to perform in a play, and Prince Roy got the second most important role that he now had to rehearse. But when Ed walked into the Privy Chamber, it was empty; the door to the prince’s bedroom was open though.

“In here!” the prince called, and Ed went to the bedroom — and froze on the threshold, stunned. The prince was bathing — in a large basin, absolutely naked; not even a linen shirt to protect his modesty.

“Your Grace…” Ed mumbled, looking away. The prince stood up in the basin, and Ed turned around immediately, not wishing to see what he was not intended to see. He knew already the prince wasn’t lacking in any department; but seeing him completely naked was too much. The prince laughed and stepped out — Ed heard his steps.

“You can turn now,” the prince said, laughing still, and Ed turned obediently, the blush burning his cheeks. Prince Roy still wasn’t wearing a shirt; but at least he put linen drawers on, and Ed exhaled slowly. That was bad enough Ed had to touch him twice a day, but seeing him like that, dripping wet, was even worse. “I am sorry. I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“It’s alright,” Ed mumbled miserably, wishing he could fall through the floor. “I thought you were rehearsing, but…”

“Ah, no. Finished for today.” He rubbed his hair with a linen sheet to dry it. “How are your rehearsals going?”

Ed shrugged. “I had two or three of them. I have two lines — they trust me to learn them.” His role was not as significant — it was the dance afterwards that Ed was so anxious about. He was a decent dancer, but nowhere as good as the prince or his retinue, and he knew that at the celebrations people will pay attention to him — the newest member of the prince’s closest circle. People already did.

“Glad to hear that,” — the prince walked around the room, getting dressed slowly, — “I don’t doubt your memory.”

Ed tried to look away; the prince was an attractive man, one of the most handsome at court, but Ed didn’t want to be attracted. He suspected for quite some time that he could be inclined in the same way as the prince and Sir Frank, but before Ed could avoid those suspicions, finding excuses; but now he was trying not to stare at the prince while he was putting on his nether hose, and Ed failed miserably.

The prince didn’t seem to notice his stare and his deep blush that refused to go away; he must be used to it, Ed thought in a passing, the strict court rules saying that he should be dressed by the courtiers; he must be used to being naked around people, Briggs’ barracks not a place for modesty; still, it was not an excuse for Ed to keep looking.

Finally the shirt was on; hose, doublet, shoes — Prince Roy straightened and looked at Ed mischievously, blue eyes sparkling with joy. “I couldn’t help but noticed you avoid dances and balls,” — he started, his soft voice making Ed blush again, — “perhaps, we should work on it. I can’t promise you you’ll be able to avoid dancing when the celebrations start, so you ought to be prepared for it. If you want, Jean or Kain could teach you — or Heymans, if you wish. Vato is a hopeless case, though, a complete disaster when it comes to dancing.”

Ed shrugged. “If you wish so, Your Grace. I’ll ask them today, if they’re available.”

“If they’re not, you can come to me,” the prince smiled, his face lighting up with that smile. He loved to dance, everybody knew that; Ed doubted though the prince would appreciate his clumsiness.

“Thank you, Your Grace. I’ll keep it in mind.” Ed bowed, knowing already that the prince would be the last person he’d come to. Enough embarrassment already; after all, neither Jean nor Kain were that busy to have no time for a couple of dancing lessons.

 

The lessons ended up involving the entire retinue and the prince himself; everybody needed practice for the public performance. Al was invited to join them; Mason and Alex Armstrong weren’t invited, but came anyway. They seemed to become friends, and Ed was glad for Mason: Armstrongs were a good family, despite their high position, and Alex was always kind and supportive; Ed didn’t get to know his sisters better, with a notable exception of the eldest, Margrave of Briggs, but all his encounters with them were quite nice.

“What we should start with?” Alex took his place, taking a lute from Mason; he was a talented musician, and — a rare thing — his family generally supported him in this.

“Pavane,” — the prince stretched and took his doublet off, — “it’s slower, and the steps are similar. Would be nice to have some ladies with us, but we’ll do what we can.”

Ed sighed; but asking Prince Roy to keep his clothes on was completely pointless. The group was divided in two — half of them as ‘ladies’, and the other half as ‘gentlemen’; Ed, as a less than mediocre dancer, got sorted into the second group with Kain as his ‘lady’ — they both were of similar height. Al next to him received the prince himself as his partner — and Ed smiled, noticing how good they two looked together. He silently hoped Prince Roy was in love with Al — they would make a good couple, their minds and passions very much alike. It didn’t fit what Ed knew of prince’s love’s hatred to him — but so far it looked like the petals were affecting his bodily humors, making him see everything grimmer than it was.

Alex started playing the slow melody, and Prince Roy along with Al showed the basic steps, their movements graceful, as if they had rehearsed it before; Ed watched them, trying to remember how to step and when to bow. Then the signal to try was given — and Ed took Kain’s hand, doing his best to avoid stepping on his feet.

“You’re doing great!” Kain smiled at him, encouraging, and Ed smiled back, uncertain; he wasn’t the worst in the room, Vato indeed being a disaster that Jean had to endure, but still Ed obviously lacked Prince Roy’s agility and grace. Al seemed to have no trouble at all — he was always good at this. Mason also managed — Heymans was a patient teacher, and Mason — a talented student.

It took several more tries for them to get the steps right; Ed knew that once learned, it wouldn’t be that easy to forget, and he made a mental note to practice with Al every day until the celebrations start. For the last repeat they have changed partners though, to make sure they could adapt, and Ed was suddenly face to face with His Grace — a pretty flushed face, to be fair. Too flushed for such a slow dance — Ed’d have to examine him after they’re done.

“Once more?” The prince smiled, very satisfied with himself; Ed felt obliged to nod. Leading him in the dance felt weird, though, the imbalance in their skills too obvious; still, Ed tried to enjoy it.

Finally they were done with pavane; the prince requested some refreshment and a short break. It could be him taking care of others, but Ed suspected that it was the disease developing; patients got tired much faster than before, and slowly they sank into a constant fatigue, completely drained of their former strength. Prince Roy was yet to enter that stage, but Ed had already devised that he had much less time left than they originally suspected; he perhaps ought to share it with the king.

“Galliard is very similar, but the tempo differs,” the prince explained while they were ‘refreshing’, drinking wine with some fruits. This wine was significantly better than what Ed had drunk before his appointment, sweet and full; but he had to be careful in order not to get dizzy. Last time he did, happened with only Al present, so it ended without any serious embarrassment, but Ed suspected that getting drunk while technically on duty wasn’t the best idea.

Somehow, despite the tempo, galliard turned out to be easier — it didn’t require that much coordination, and overall Ed found it be much more enjoyable. All the jumps and leaps were too much fun; when the music ended, Ed was out of breath but happier than he’d been before.

“Two dances should be enough,” Prince Roy reached for his glass. His cheeks were red, and while he didn’t cough, Ed was almost sure he’ll have a fit tonight. He really ought to be careful; but what’s the point of telling him that, if he refuses to listen?

Alex soon excused himself; Mason and Al stayed, joining the retinue’s usual gambling. The prince reversed to playing chess with Heymans, though; he was a decent player, judging by Heymans whining about his losing streak, and Ed sat next to them, watching the game.

It was non-eventful, though; the only reason why Heymans managed to win this time was because Prince Roy was distracted. He seemed unable to focus — and the blush of the exercise still didn’t go away.

“You need to rest,” Ed said, quietly, and the prince winced, as if in pain.

“I don’t. I’m perfectly fine,” he exhaled slowly and glanced at Mason; luckily for them, Mason wasn’t paying attention to their corner.

Heymans coughed. “You really should listen to Ed, Your Grace,” he suggested, exchanging quick glances with Ed. “He knows what he’s doing. We all want to keep you alive, so please, help us with that.”

The prince narrowed his eyes, irritated. “Since when do you decide what shall I do with my life?”

Ed took a deep breath to keep himself from yelling. “Since your brother ordered me to take care of you, Your Grace. You can behave as juvenile as you want, that doesn’t negate the fact that people who love you don’t want you to die! If you don’t care about yourself, it’s fine! But you’re not alone in this world, and if you can’t stay alive for yourself, at least try it for your family and friends!”

He cut himself off, realising he raised his voice at the prince; but Prince Roy just sighed. “Be it your way. At least for now. I am going to take a walk in the gardens, it won’t take long.”

“When you return, Your Grace, I’ll examine you,” Ed said firmly. “No excuses.”

The prince nodded reluctantly and left; Heymans snorted. “You’re the first person I know who can outstubborn him. Good job. Keep it that way, and he’ll make it till ninety.”

 

The prince tried to follow Ed’s instructions; he reduced the amount of exercise, although only so slightly, and he drunk all the bitter tisanes Ed brought him — but at least he was allowed to complain. Ed was still worried about him, though.

“Your sickness develops at an unusually high speed, Your Grace,” Ed said one evening, listening to his laboured breathing. “It leaves us less time to prepare.”

The prince sighed stoically, letting Ed knock on his chest lightly. “Why is it so? Are we doing something wrong?”

“Not likely. I assume that your despair makes it worse. Petals grow when you’re unhappy, and if you see your beloved often, that… well, that could definitely make it develop too fast. Especially if you’re convinced they don’t love you.”

“They don’t,” Prince Roy snapped, defensive as always. “What do you suggest? Complete isolation? Won’t be that easy to pull off, especially with all the celebrations. After the Accession Day it’ll be barely a month before Riza delivers her child, and all celebrations will start anew. And in that month I must be here to entertain Izumi and Chris, so… no, leaving is not the answer. At least, not until autumn, and I’m afraid till then Aerugo will gather an army again to attack Ishval. The summer there is unbearably hot, even locals can’t deal with the heat.”

“Well, His Majesty could have that person removed from court,” Ed sighed, removing his ear trumpet. “But you won’t tell anybody who that person is. As if your stubbornness is helping anyone…”

“We’ve talked about it. No. I am fully willing to take that secret to my grave.” Prince Roy stretched, and Ed held his breath for a moment. He had to admit, the prince’s physique was impressive; Ed hadn’t seen a lot of people naked, but he assumed not many of them were as fit as the prince. But then the prince put on his shirt, and Ed suppressed a sigh; it was not his place to stare. Especially since the prince was dying, and Ed used his position to gawk instead of doing something that would actually help — like finding the person he loves and forcing them both to confess; now Ed believed less and less that somebody would actually hate the prince. Ed himself used to dislike the prince, of course; but it passed when he learned more about him. Anybody who would know Prince Roy better would almost inevitably fall for him — not only because of his beauty, though it also shouldn’t go unnoticed, but also because of his many virtues — something that Ed didn’t believe before he possessed.

“At the very least we should keep you entertained,” Ed said, diverting his gaze. “So you would be distracted. That may slow it down. Still… there’s something seriously wrong, and I can’t understand what exactly.”

“Me. I am what is wrong, Ed.” The prince smiled softly and removed Ed’s bangs from his face; Ed caught his hand. Even in the dim light of the fireplace it was easy to notice how much darker Ed’s skin was; with his southern tan gone Prince Roy was now just as pale as his brother.

“You’re not wrong, Your Grace… you’re just one of those people who fall in love. There’s not much you can do about it, it’s in your nature. You already handle it better than many, I must say.”

“I always knew I’d die young,” Prince Roy shrugged, releasing his hand. “So when it all happened, I was ready. In some way… I think it’s some kind of a blessing, to be able to fall in love, to experience all this. It’s unfortunate I’ll die, of course, but I like being in love, you know. How my heart warms when I see him, despite knowing… well, everything I know. I wouldn’t change it even if I could.”

Ed smiled. “I wonder what requited love feels like from the inside. My parents married for love, and I keep looking at them and wondering if the same will happen to me. I mean, I could die, of course… but I could also survive, and it looks like a risk worth taking.”

“Eternal bliss or painful death. Yes, sounds fair enough,” the prince laughed. “I hope that your love will be requited. Or rather, I’m sure of it.”

Ed nodded. “Thank you, Your Grace. You should sleep though. Only two days left till the celebrations, and you need all rest you can get.”

 

Winry Rockbell arrived the next day, delayed because of a presumed sickness of Princess Olga; when the princess was declared out of danger, Winry rushed to the capital to get there on time.

Ed was too busy on the day of her arrival, stuck at the training grounds with the retinue; instead of usual joust the queen decided to have an archery tournament, and now everybody was stressed out about it. Her Majesty herself was, as it was explained to Ed, a master archeress; back in the days she alone provided meat for herself, her father and Prince Roy. Now Jean, her main competitor, was almost living at the training ground, mastering his skill; the rest of the retinue followed, although they had little chance to the victory. Even Ed tried to shoot: he was lucky to hit the target once out of a dozen times; after that he was sent to a cozy place under an oak tree to read his book in peace.

There was where Al and Winry found him; Ed didn’t even recognise her at first. She grew up, turning from a girl into a beautiful young woman, dressed to the latest fashion, a proper lady; still, she made a very unlady-like shriek, hugging Ed tight.

“I’m so glad to see you!” she smiled, letting Ed go. “Now, I demand you tell me all your news! What is it like, working for the prince? I heard, he’s a shallow kind, but it looks like there’s more to it.”

Ed shrugged. “He is okay. Stubborn, but otherwise fine. His friends are really nice… There’s not much to tell, honestly, except that he’s not as bad as he seems.”

“Why would you be appointed?” Winry mused, still grinning. “You’re not a courtier, you’re a doctor. A future doctor, at least. Is he?..”

Ed shook his head furiously. “No! I decided to try being a courtier for a while. I like it so far. I got to see Briggs, for example!”

She laughed. “I hope you will tell me all about it. Now, Al, take me to your father! Grandmother asked me to deliver him a message.”

Ed smiled. “Okay. I’ll see you this evening, okay?” Winry nodded and turned around, letting Al to lead her away. The retinue, who watched their talk, waved to her; Winry curtseyed back to them.

“Who was it?” Jean asked, when Ed joined them again. “Seems pretty.”

“Winry Rockbell,” Ed chuckled. “She’s Lady Pinako’s granddaughter, came here to join Her Majesty’s Privy Chamber. We grew up together, in Dublith. We are of the same age, so we’ve always been friends… were even betrothed shortly as kids, but called it off pretty fast.”

“O-oh,” Heymans nodded, grinning. “So a childhood friend, and a beauty. Beware, Ed Elric!” He elbowed Ed, and Ed winced. He had no intentions to marry Winry, and he was certain that she had no plans to marry him either.

The prince snapped his fingers. “Back to task! If you want to compete with Riza, you all need to train, so hush!” The retinue obediently picked up their bows; the prince turned to Ed and winked. “Invite Lady Winry to our table today, will you? I would like to meet her properly.”

“As you wish, Your Grace,” Ed sighed. So he’ll have to watch Prince Roy flirt with Winry to keep his image in the eyes of the court; uh-oh. Why did that thought make him so uncomfortable?

 

Ed was no less tense when the evening came; not only because of Winry’s arrival but also because on the next day Lady Izumi and Lady Chris were expected in Central. That meant they’d find out about Prince Roy’s illness; knowing Lady Izumi, it’d probably involve a lot of yelling. Ed wasn’t quite sure what Lady Chris would do, but he had his doubts that she’d be excited about it.

Still, first he had to survive the supper; Jean and Heymans kept teasing him about Winry, and Ed suspected the prince might join the teasing as well. After formally introducing Winry to the retinue Ed helped her to her place, and the prince himself poured her some wine. He chose to stay with his retinue today — instead of taking his usual place next to the king.

“Pray tell us about your life in Rush Valley,” the prince smiled — amiable as always. Winry blushed slightly; she was not used to such attention.

“There’s not much to tell, Your Highness. It’s a small town with not much to do, and I used to spend the days playing with the children. They’re going to arrive soon, and for the last two months the trip was the only thing they could talk about. Prince Thomas is very excited about seeing the capital, and he hopes to see his beloved uncle soon,” — she laughed, — “he’s a real fan of yours, Your Highness.”

The prince winced; but Winry didn’t seem to notice. “I am honored. Last time I saw him he was what, five? When Princess Olga was born. But now he must be a little man already, at full eight years of age. Speaking of the princess — how is her health?”

“A little cold, nothing to be worried about. We were afraid of her getting whooping cough, but she is a very healthy child, all of them are. Healthy and smart, too. She’s learning letters now, and Princess Elizabeth is reading in Amestrian and Cretan. She just started her Aerugovian classes as well. His Majesty thinks that they should also learn Xingese, but we’d been at a loss with locating a good teacher.”

“Send to Xing to get one,” the prince shrugged. “It’s a reasonable request. We are of Xingese blood, after all, and we should honor it. But I agree, learning Aerugovian and Cretan is more useful now. If you’re looking into classic languages, then Ancient Xerxesian could be of use… It’s still widely used, if I recall correctly, and Master Elric here speaks it. Don’t you?”

“Ancient and Modern Xerxesian, yes,” Ed nodded. “But learning Modern Xerxesian is mostly pointless now, it’s not like a lot of people still use it. It’s dying out.”

Prince Roy chuckled. “Precisely the reason why we should learn it, in my opinion. To keep it alive. Wouldn’t you prefer for your children to know the language of their people, Ed?”

“If I have children, then yes. There’s not much of us left, and most are mixed like me and Al.”

“Ah, you two used to drive me insane when we were kids.” Winry laughed again. “They talked in Xerxesian all the time, ignoring me completely. Used it as their ‘secret language’. Nobody in Dublith spoke Modern Xerxesian except Van Hohenheim, Lady Trisha, Ed, and Al, so they used it to the fullest.”

Ed elbowed her. “ _ You _ could have learned Xerxesian to understand us, but you refused every time we offered it! So we mostly used it to complain about you.”

“I  _ knew _ it!” She giggled; Ed turned away, fake-pouting, but he noticed — briefly, accidentally, — how sad the prince looked. In an eyeblink he was smiling again, though, but Ed knew him well enough to be able to tell the difference between a fake smile and a real one.

The talk resumed; the prince was asking Winry about their childhood, and they both recalled funny stories of their misbehaviour. The prince flirted, of course; if Ed didn’t know better he would have thought Prince Roy to be completely enraptured by Winry, on the edge of falling in love with her. Somehow it was incredibly annoying to watch; the prince was completely decent, of course, and his compliments were sincere; and Ed knew perfectly that Winry was too smart to really fall for that, but she accepted it as a part of the game. Still, Ed felt very out of place; seeing the old prince, or rather his old mask, was very off-putting. He now better understood his need to pretend — the real Prince Roy wouldn’t have made it at the court, so accepting a mask was just a way to survive, but Ed still didn’t like that mask — moreso, he hated it even more now, after he learned what Prince Roy was really like.

The prince excused himself rather early though, claiming that he had a busy day tomorrow; Ed chose to follow him. It turned out to be a wise choice; as soon as the prince was in his chambers, he collapsed in a coughing fit, the worst one Ed had ever seen. Ed barely kept him from falling; the prince was shaking, and Ed led him to a chair.

“I’m sorry,” the prince mouthed, still trembling; Ed squeezed his hand.

“Don’t be. Are you… why now? What happened at supper?” The fit was clearly triggered by something the prince saw or heard; perhaps something that happened some time ago, but he was reminded of it again. Ed tried to focus on their talk; was it something said at their table?

“Nothing. I just… spiraled, I think,” the prince calmed down a little, his chest rising and falling slowly. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have… forgive me.”

Ed clicked his tongue. “There’s nothing to apologise for, Your Grace. You need rest and some peace of mind, if you can manage it. Let me examine you, and then I’ll bring you some tisanes for better sleep.”

Prince Roy winced, but took off his doublet and shirt; Ed distracted himself with a search for the herbs he had kept in the wooden chest. Staring at the prince was never appropriate, less of all now, when he was clearly in pain and suffering.

“It’s bad,” Ed declared after listening to his breathing. “If it continues, you’ll have to leave court, Your Grace.”

“Not now, Ed. I have duties. But I will keep it in mind.” The prince put his shirt back on but then went to the bedroom, undressing on the go; Ed sighed, picking up his clothes from the floor. It was too early for such fits; how they’re supposed to hide it from Lady Chris and Lady Izumi?

After fetching a servant Ed brewed some herbs together and brought the cup to the prince; to his surprise, the prince wasn’t sleeping yet. He looked miserable — face pale with ugly blotches of red, and still Ed couldn’t help but stare at him; when the prince took the cup from him, mumbling his thanks, Ed felt their fingers touch ever so lightly.

The tisane had a terrible taste; Ed had to drink it himself many times when something kept him too agitated to sleep, so he developed a habit of adding honey to it; he added some honey this time too, knowing that the prince loved sweets. And now the prince smiled after tasting it — a real smile this time, small, but still lighting up his face, — and ended the cup much faster than Ed could have hoped for.

“Goodnight, Your Grace,” Ed bowed, taking the cup from him. “I hope you’ll feel better in the morning.”

The prince nodded and pulled his blanket up. “Thank you, Ed. Goodnight.”

Ed smiled and closed the bedroom door; they’d decide what to do tomorrow when tomorrow comes.

 

The next morning was a mess; Lady Chris arrived earlier than she was expected, and most of the court turned out to be late for the proper greetings. She didn’t seem to care, though; Prince Roy told Ed a lot about her neglect of the court rules, the trait he obviously got from her. Her little court had a reputation of the most liberal; after her nephew became king, she was finally free to do as she pleased, so she used her freedom.

As soon as the bustle around Lady Chris’ arrival calmed down, Lady Izumi arrived with her husband and her entourage; Ed was one of the first to rush outside to meet them. Lady Trisha was with her today — and Ed missed his mother much more than he would openly admit. Seeing her several times a year was certainly not enough, but at least he knew she was okay — they wrote often to each other. Sadly, Ed wasn’t able to be honest with her for the past few months, keeping a secret that wasn’t his, but if Lady Izumi learned the truth, she was almost sure to tell Lady Trisha.

“Mom!” He hugged her tight, noticing with some satisfaction that now he was a bit taller than she was, the height the only trait he took from her, sadly. “How are you? Tell me everything!”

She laughed, not letting him go. “I feel like you have much more to tell me about.” Trisha touched his sleeve — of true black velvet, slashed, with dark red silk underneath. “You look all proper now, my boy. How is the prince treating you? He’s a kind man, despite all the talks.”

“He is,” — Ed laughed, — “but incredibly stubborn. The whole family is like that, I presume.” He led her inside, to meet with Al and van Hohenheim, and left her with them to tend to his duties; Prince Roy had requested his presence when he’ll tell his family about his condition. He was afraid of doing this alone; knowing Lady Izumi’s temper, Ed could see why.

The talk was to take place in the king’s Privy Chamber, with only the closest family members present: Prince Roy himself, King Zolf, Queen Riza, Lady Izumi and Lady Chris — and Ed for the moral support. The prince hoped that Lady Izumi wouldn’t be angry at Ed — he always was her favorite, ever since he was a kid.

“What is of such importance?” Lady Izumi asked, looking at the prince with her usual look of mild displeasure; Ed used to be afraid of that look, it meant punishment more often than not. “Are you finally getting married?”

The prince laughed uncomfortably, fidgeting with his bonnet. “No. Quite… quite the opposite. I am sick, dear sister. Coughing.”

She gasped; Ed saw the queen’s lips quirking up in a smile. Her relationship with her sister-in-law was tense; the queen didn’t hate her openly, but Lady Izumi knew she wasn’t particularly welcomed at the capital.

“You’re  _ what _ ? Since when? Who is it?”

The prince exhaled slowly. “A year or two, may be? Yeah, sounds about right. And I am  _ not _ telling you. I am the only person who knows, and I am not planning to tell anybody.”

Lady Izumi stood up, her fists clenching, and Ed could see the prince tensing; he suspected the prince had experienced her fists on himself when they were kids.

“So you’re dying young because you’re stubborn and refuse to be happy. Big news.” Lady Chris snorted. She looked amused — a bit too amused, to Ed’s liking, but she wasn’t surprised at all. “Izumi, calm down. He knows what he’s doing. I bet everybody who knows already told him he’s behaving like an immature idiot, so I don’t see the point in repeating it again. I had thought you would die in a battle though.”

The prince laughed, more relaxed this time. “I still have time, Chris. But thanks for believing in me.”

“I demand that you tell me and confess to her! So you can get married and settle down finally!” Lady Izumi was still standing; the king rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Do you think I didn’t demand that?” He asked, tired. “He refuses to. His retinue doesn’t know. Hell,  _ Maes Hughes _ doesn’t know, does it ring a bell, dear sister?”

She sighed and sat down, her fists still balled. “How much time do you have?” she asked, calmer now.

“Five to six years. More if I am careful.” The estimate was much lower now; Ed suspected anywhere from two to four years, perhaps even less if it continues to develop at such speed, but he understood why the prince would need to lie.

“When did you know you were sick? And Roy… at least tell me if she is eligible.”

The prince sighed heavily. “I knew the moment I saw him. And he is, well, technically eligible — not married, at least. Perhaps betrothed. I didn’t ask.”

“So I can rule Maes out,” Lady Chris mused, shaking her head. “Good to know.”

“Did you suspect him?” Prince Roy chuckled. “Although I agree, I am stupid enough to fall for Maes. But it would have happened years ago, back in Briggs.”

Ed bit his cheek. So the prince admitted openly it was a man; Ed was almost sure the man in the question wasn’t inclined the same way, and if he disliked the prince already, then the confession would make things much worse.

“I want you to keep it secret as long as you can. That means, as long as Roy can hide it. Sister, I think, you might tell your husband and Lady Trisha, but warn her about keeping her mouth shut. I don’t want the rumours spreading out to Aerugo, we have enough problems in Ishval already.” The king stood up and offered his hand to the queen; she had to lean on him to stand up properly, her pregnancy obvious.

Lady Chris glanced at her. “Now  _ you _ don’t look surprised, Riza. I thought you didn’t know.”

“I knew before he even left for Briggs,” the queen waved her hand. “I nursed my father, Chris. You all seem to forget that.”

“Do you have any guesses about who it might be?” Lady Izumi asked, worried; the queen smiled softly.

“I have my guesses. I prefer to keep my eyes open, dear sister, and I advise you do the same. Then you’ll have your guesses too.”

Ed suppressed a snort; Lady Izumi looked completely lost, and Lady Chris took her hand to lead her out.

When there were only two of them left, Prince Roy turned to Ed. “It all went fairly well, don’t you think?” he asked, trying too hard to look careless. Ed raised his eyebrow.

“You think so, Your Grace? Perhaps. But I wonder what Her Majesty’s guesses are…”

“You want to know if your and her lists overlap,” the prince laughed. “Don’t deny it. At least you’re not nagging me with your curiosity.”

“I do my best. If you ever feel like sharing, I am willing to listen, and if you don’t… well, then it’s not my business anyway.”

He smiled, amused. “Thank you, Ed. Let’s go. We have celebrations to prepare for.”


	4. Chapter 4

The Accession Day celebrations passed in a blur; Ed had performed his small role in a play where the prince starred, and it all went well; Jean lost the archery competition to Her Majesty, as was expected, but he beat Lady Rebecca — by pure luck, she said. Lady Izumi was uncharacteristically quiet, but Ed did witness her yelling at a servant once; the poor girl bursted out crying as soon as Lady Izumi left, and Ed did his best to calm her down. 

The prince was slightly better — he chose less demanding activities, rested more, but his duties still demanded a lot of involvement. Thankfully, there was no joust — the queen chose to give it up, knowing about his sickness, — but the balls still were pretty exhausting.

Ed had to join the dances as well; luckily for him, mostly the partners were to his liking. He had to endure a dance with Lady Solaris though; but then Prince Roy had to endure four.

Winry adjusted easily; she befriended other ladies, including the youngest of the Armstrong sisters, Catherine, who was to join the queen’s chambers with Winry, and now they were often seen together, giggling about their own stuff. Ed hadn’t had a lot of opportunities to meet with her, and she didn’t seem to suffer from his negligence; from what Ed had heard, Al entertained her just fine.

And finally, Ed got the chance to spend time with his family, while Trisha was still here. Her just being here was definitely improving Van Hohenheim’s mood; Ed hadn’t noticed before how miserable his father was when Trisha wasn’t around; now they both were glowing, almost never apart. For a short while Trisha was freed of her duties, and she used that time to reacquaintance with her sons; they’ve been separated for more than two years, and she had confessed that she doesn’t know them at all. He and Al, they both grew up; now she wanted to get to know them better.

It included, of course, all that teasing about their marriages — Al had decided long ago that he’d stay unmarried as long as he could, and everybody seemed to question his choice; Ed had decided he’d only marry for love, and both his parents were horrified in advance. They knew very well how dangerous that can be; but seeing them together, in total bliss, only made Ed’s longing for a similar feeling stronger. His realisations about what people he was attracted to didn’t help either; men could marry each other as long as it was a petal marriage, of course, but most people viewed such relationships with pity. A normal marriage was always an arranged one, a loveless one; a mutual affection was accepted, but passionate love was simultaneously inducing envy and fear; nobody wanted to fall in love and yet so many people wished for requited love, curious about what it felt like.

According to the prince, it felt terrible — his chest hurt, and the coughing fits now repeated even in the broad daylight; still, Ed couldn’t help but imagine himself with somebody who’d love him, somebody Ed would share his own love with. A faceless person — a faceless man — so far; Ed fought tooth and nail every attempt of his mind to give that man a recognisable face. He didn’t need to fall in love now; not until he finished with Prince Roy; but Ed didn’t really want to finish, either.

He came to appreciate the prince’s company; they often talked about philosophical or social matters, providing each other with new points of view. Prince Roy’s unusual upbringing gave him perspective on many things in life: he had been a poor farmer, a nameless soldier, a distinguished officer, and a prince — and he drew experience from all what had happened with him. In many things he was more educated than Ed — like political science; Ed, too busy with his medical research, was never paying attention to the political matters, and all his opinions on that came from his scarce knowledge of Amestrian and Xerxesian history. The prince didn’t try to ridicule him for it, though; he seemed to appreciate Ed’s wish to learn more about the things he didn’t know much about. In return, the prince listened carefully when Ed talked about things he knew best, like medicine or Xerxesian culture; the prince spoke quite decent Ancient Xerxesian and was curious about the context of some Xerxesian plays he’d read; to better explain that Ed had translated several short poems from Modern Xerxesian and was incredibly proud of himself for days.

The retinue also took up on their task to entertain the prince; they went hunting often, with less actual hunting and more just riding through the woods. This summer was warmer than the last one, and Ed enjoyed the heat; a couple of times he fell asleep on their picnics, completely relaxed. Once he woke up to the prince playing absently with his hair; when Ed stirred, the prince apologised profusely and was forgiven on the spot with a condition that he plaits Ed’s hair anew. That he did — Ed almost fell asleep again under the soft touch of his skilled fingers.

Another reason for these ‘hunting’ trips was placed in one of the royal parks — a small river that turned into a wide stream farther east and became one of the rivers encompassing Aquroya. The first one to suggest a swim was Jean; most of the retinue supported him, with Ed being the only voice of reason. But nobody listened to him; the prince was the first to undress and dive into the clear cool water. Ed refused to join them, no matter how much they pleaded; he was not opposed to swimming, but had no wish to undress before other people. Enough seeing them dressed only in drawers, wet and sticking to the skin; Ed wished to avoid embarrassment of being caught on his affections. He feasted his eyes instead, watching them playing some kind of tag in the water; oh, how he wished for somebody to share a beautiful summer day with, to lie in the grass together, watching the sky, to talk for hours about some nonsense, to embrace each other; but daydreaming never got him far.

The trips to the river repeated several times; once even the king joined them with his men, and yet again Ed was the only one staying out of the water. A desert kid, somebody called him; Prince Roy almost got offended on his behalf until Ed assured him it was more than okay. That he was, after all; but he was flattered that the prince obviously thought him one of ‘his’ men. After almost half a year in their company Ed still didn’t always feel like he belonged; little things like that kept him grounded.

A wonderful summer; Ed would be happy to have more summers like that; but he knew that the next summer will be drastically different, with the prince dying of petal sickness. If only they had a cure — Van Hohenheim was quite convinced that the sickness could be slowed down if the flowers could be removed, but they had no means to perform such an operation and keep the patient alive. In a few centuries, maybe; but for now all his theories had to stay theories and nothing more.

 

The queen was already in seclusion, surrounded by her ladies; Lady Chris took her place as the mistress of the house temporarily. She used to run the palace back when she was Princess Regent, but not many courtiers remembered those days; still, she was loved, and nobody objected.

Ed, though, struggled with forming an opinion: the prince loved his aunt, but Ed was suspicious of why she would be so cynical about his condition. Gossips said that Lady Chris was the cause of many petal deaths in her youth, and that Lord Bradley himself barely avoided that; some said that the last king of Aerugo had died so young because he was hopelessly in love with the Amestrian princess. She did seem like the type — but in the same time she wasn’t malicious, just… not the type to cough herself.

Still, Ed liked her more than Lady Izumi; he loved Lady Izumi as a kid, thinking her to be his second mother, but as he grew older he saw more and more things he didn’t like: her temper was one of them, her disrespect to anybody of lower positions — another; Lady Trisha seemed to be one of the very few Lady Izumi liked. Her relationship with her brothers was also tense — she was the eldest of the three, and if Amestris had other rules of inheritance, she would be queen with her husband as consort; she seemed to hold a grudge because of that. Their romantic choices were also something for her to criticise — she didn’t like Queen Riza because of her ‘low standing’, and she was still livid about Prince Roy’s condition — as if he ought to ask her opinion before falling in love. But Lady Izumi seemed to still like Ed — she asked for his company, and Ed wasn’t in a position to refuse invitations; luckily for him, Prince Roy often came to his rescue.

Al came to their table at the hall more often now; the retinue liked him, and Ed was glad to have his brother around.

“How is Her Majesty?” The prince asked, cutting his meat. Al shrugged.

“Perfectly fine. She says she’s tired of all our fuss and doesn’t need our constant presence, but father is still worried. Childbirth is dangerous.”

The prince nodded solemnly. His own mother had died in childbirth along with the child; the queen’s mother suffered the same fate. Trisha was lucky to avoid it; Lady Izumi lost the child in childbirth, but survived.

“Is it true that it was a honorary death in Xerxes?” Heymans asked, and Ed almost choked.

“Not quite. It was in one of the provinces that Ancient Xerxes conquered but couldn’t keep, it belongs to Aerugo now. Only men who died in the battle and women who died in childbirth got their names written on the tombstone. And that was an honor, yes, to your name to be remembered. All that.” He took another piece of meat and tasted it carefully. “Why is everything so bitter today? What’s wrong with the cook?”

Heymans stared at him. “Uhm, everything’s fine? It tastes okay.”

“Does it? Weird.” Ed winced, chewing on his food. The prince moved a plate with sugar pieces closer to Ed, and Ed thanked him quietly. Sweetness did help a little — at least now the food was edible.

“Ancient Xerxes included huge territories. Almost entire eastern part of Amestris, if I recall correctly. Wasn’t called ‘Amestris’ then, though. Most of eastern Aerugo was Xerxesian, too. They still have Xerxesian names for some towns.”

“Just as many Amestrian towns in South-East have Ishvalan names, right?” Jean squinted. “Risembool, for example.”

“Is it Ishvalan?” Ed and Al said in unison; despite technically being from Risembool, they’ve only visited it once and found the place incredibly dull; they were never interested in its history to know much about its name’s origins.

“M-m… ‘Bool’ is Ishvalan for a village or a town, and ‘Risem’ comes from a term for a pasture. A closest translation would be ‘a village where cattle is herded’.” The prince took a sip of his wine.

“Do you speak Ishvalan?” Al asked, and the prince shrugged.

“A bit. I can communicate with most Northern Ishvalans, but Southern dialect is much more difficult to grasp. More Aerugovian than Ishvalan, to be honest. And it’s definitely not enough to read serious works, like teachings of Ishvala or something like that. Had to order a translation of those.”

“It’s something you pick up when you spend enough time there,” Jean snorted. “Ishvalans speak Amestrian, but they prefer to use their language. Especially with Amestrian soldiers, it’s their way of saying ‘fuck you’ without being, you know, openly rude. But if you answer them in Ishvalan, they’re suddenly much nicer.”

“That is logical,” the prince said. “We came uninvited, so the least we can do is to show them some respect. Even if you butcher Ishvalan, at least you try to be closer to them. They really appreciate the effort. Unlike Xingese, I must say. Those bastards demand you speak either perfect Xingese or no Xingese at all, or they simply refuse to talk to you. They are a bit more patient if they’re  _ teaching _ you Xingese, but even then you’re supposed to get it right from the first try.”

“And you said His Grace doesn’t hold grudges,” Kain laughed, elbowing Jean. “Somebody spent too much time trying to please their teacher, right, sir?”

Prince Roy laughed. “Kind of. Luckily for me, Lord Hawkeye was less demanding.”

“But he did make you do household chores, didn’t he?”

“He didn’t. He made his daughter do it, so I helped her out. At first she tried to, you know, keep me away from it, because I messed up everything, but soon I learned, and we divided the work. So when I was ordered to do the same tasks in Briggs, I was better prepared. My sister was furious, of course. She still thinks that I should have been raised in the palace, and that me and Jay ought to be heir and spare, in case something happens to him. But Chris didn’t care then and she doesn’t care now. And I turned out okay, didn’t I?”

“You did, yes,” Heymans laughed. “But I can’t imagine Her Majesty scrubbing the floor. Or making dinner.”

“She’s a terrible cook. Her father only ate what she made because their kitchen maid was even worse. So she hunted, and I cooked what she brought in, and we both avoided scrubbing the floor until it couldn’t be avoided anymore.”

Ed chuckled. Imagining the prince on all fours, scrubbing off the dirt, was incredibly amusing; Ed had seen one of his old portraits, painted when the prince must have been Lord Hawkeye’s ward: an awkward teen with childish roundness in the face, with unruly black hair. A painter decided to make the portrait less official, and the collar of prince Roy’s shirt was torn, jerkin dirty — as if he just returned from a game-turned-fight. Ed couldn’t imagine the queen scrubbing the floors though; she always was so calm and collected, that imagining her youth was nearly impossible. A true queen, inside and out; King Zolf must have had seen it too.

 

Lady Pinako arrived almost a full month after the Accession day celebrations; Van Hohenheim was already going mad with waiting. He was afraid the queen will go into labor before Lady Pinako comes; but Lady Pinako called him a fool and said that after delivering three princes she knows that ‘their kind’ prefers to take their time; after all, they’re royalty. They are never late; the rush and hurry of the outside world doesn’t really apply in their case.

She turned out to be right, of course: the labor started a week after her arrival, in early hours of the morning, and was over too soon — at least for Al, who didn’t get to use any of his knowledge. The queen apologised for that, though; after feeding the child — a healthy boy, yet to be named, — she asked for the king and fell asleep before he got there.

The king was ecstatic — he, as Prince Roy told Ed in secret, was afraid of losing his wife more than anything else, and knowing that both she and his newborn son were alright calmed his anxiety down; now the time for celebrations started. The program was planned before the child was born: the queen made two separate plans, even, one in case it’s a girl and another in case it’s a boy; now the second plan was put in motion.

A series of banquets and feasts; an obligatory tournament with joust; balls, hunts, masquerades, and plays — everything that the court could offer; the prince had to take part in most of those activities, and Ed was troubled. The balls and banquets were fine; but the tournament was something else entirely. It required too much from the prince — who was already showing the signs of sickness, with chest pain and sudden fits of coughing. He was getting tired faster now; in the beginning of spring he could spend entire day training and jousting, but now the prince had to quit tennis games too early, he retired to sleep earlier than usual, he slept in late — Ed could see how he was fading away. It was painful to watch — the prince, a young, handsome man, a brave soldier, was dying before his eyes, and Ed could do nothing about it; his tisanes could only slow down the sickness, but they didn’t help.

The joust was a necessary part, though; everybody agreed that the prince was expected to joust, and if he didn’t, it would raise suspicions. So Ed and Van Hohenheim both gave their permission; the king after some hesitation approved it. Prince Roy was excited, though; he loved jousting, and usually he won the tournaments he entered; Ed wouldn’t bet on him this year, though.

Another problem was giving the name to the child; out of old superstitions it wasn’t discussed during the pregnancy, and now the royal family was stuck: traditions demanded the child to be named after his second grandfather, Berthold Hawkeye, but the queen was against it: she didn’t love her father and had no wish for his name to stay in the family; another option was needed. But the options weren’t exactly plentiful: they included names like Giolio, after King Zolf’s mentor Lord Comanche; but old Comanche ended his life in disgrace after he tried to manipulate his former student: for all his patience King Zolf couldn’t stand it when other people tried to force him to do something he didn’t want to do. Some other names on the list also reminded of long deceased courtiers; eventually the parents made the full circle and chose ‘Ervin’ — it was a given name of Queen Riza’s paternal grandfather who died long before she was born. That one satisfied almost everybody; some traditionalists still thought the kid should be named after his grandfather.

The little Prince Ervin was therefore formally introduced to the court and to his siblings; Prince Thomas, the eldest, was given a chance to hold his brother for a short while. Ed also got to hold the baby before he was given to the nurse: a small wriggling bundle, who couldn’t even focus his gaze yet; but it was already noticeable that he looked a lot like his father. Most of kids did — dark hair, blue eyes, distinctively Xingese features; only Princess Elizabeth took after her mother, with eyes of warm brown color and hair of honey shade.

While the king was busy with his kingly business, the queen recovered, and Lady Pinako took care of the newborn, the kids were left to Prince Roy and his men; the help of Winry and Trisha was much appreciated. The girls were mostly with them; Prince Thomas, however, begged his uncle to teach him to fight: the prince was running out of arguments why it wasn’t such a good idea.

 

They could only shed the kids a couple of days before the tournament, and the prince spent the entire time training; he was going to win despite his sickness, since it was obviously his last joust; they all knew he wasn’t getting better, and next year he likely wouldn’t be able to ride at all.

The evening before tournament he retired early, as he usually did now, and Ed brought him brewed hare’s blood: a herbal infusion said to give strength and cure sadness; the prince needed both its effects now.

“Are you nervous?” Ed gave him the cup: he added honey, as always, to please the prince; albeit Ed himself developed a sweet tooth lately. Must be contagious; he ought to ask Van Hohenheim about it.

“Not really. The worst thing that can happen is losing, and that is… well, not likely. My retinue doesn’t joust this time, and out of Jay’s men Maes and Frank are the only real competitors. The young Bradley was going to join though, but he was never good in this, so beating him would be easy.” The prince took a careful sip.

“Will you be wearing Her Majesty’s favors?”

The prince frowned. “I haven’t decided yet. Hers, my sister’s or my aunt’s. Should be a family thing, to avoid any rumours. I mean… I would gladly wear  _ his _ favors, but I doubt he’d let me. So I’ll have to do with what I have.”

Ed sighed. He still had no idea who that ‘he’ was — the prince refused to answer any question that could possibly lead Ed to the truth, so Ed had to watch the prince interacting with the courtiers to determine which one caused such reaction. So asking which color  _ his _ family preferred, or whether  _ he _ joined the joust was pointless; and yet, Ed desperately needed to know. Who could catch the prince’s eye? Who would be deserving of his love? And who would be so blind to his suffering? Not married, possibly betrothed; doesn’t like the prince, is not famous at court… And they’re not close, or Ed would know — he knew everybody who met with the prince often, all his friends, all his tennis partners; nobody seemed to be the one.

For a brief moment Al’s suggestion that that  _ he _ could be Ed didn’t seem so absurd anymore; but Ed pushed that thought away. Why would prince Roy fall in love for somebody he barely knew back then? No, there must be someone else; possibly not even a courtier at all, just a nameless somebody from the palace.

The prince finished his drink, and Ed took the cup from him.

“Is everything alright?” The prince asked, looking at Ed; Ed shrugged.

“Yes. I’m just lost in thought. Sorry. Good night, sir. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Ed,” the prince smiled warmly, and Ed smiled back almost against his will. Prince Roy was too handsome for his own good; Ed should stop thinking about him in that way.

 

In the morning Ed examined the prince as usual; his breath was laboured, and the prince complained that his chest hurt again, but overall his condition was satisfactory; unlikely to drop dead right on the jousting grounds. A blow strong enough could, of course, stop his heart or break his ribs, but Ed preferred not to think about it; he was worried sick already.

The prince left to dress up: Jean was the one responsible for getting him into the armor, but the rest of the retinue decided to help; Ed took his place on the tribunes instead. He was sitting next to his family; it didn’t get them the best view, but at least Ed was close enough to the exit in case something should happen.

The beginning of the joust wasn’t particularly interesting: Ed was never a fan of war games. But he cheered, when Maes Hughes almost knocked Neville Bradley unconscious: his sister’s favors didn’t help him at all.

Frank Archer won over Hughes, though; he wouldn’t be able to take him down in a knife fight, but in the joust he was noticeably better. With Hughes out of the way it was Archer against the prince now; Ed only noticed he was holding his breath when Al elbowed him rather painfully.

“He’s going to be okay,” Al whispered, leaning to Ed. “His Highness is good at this, and you know it. And besides, Archer’s gonna be careful. He doesn’t want to kill the prince accidentally.”

Ed sighed. “He is not going to be careful. The point of playing with royals is not letting them win too easily. His Grace hates it when people go easy on him just because he’s a prince, and Archer knows that. But Archer doesn’t know the prince is sick, so he’s going to treat him as a healthy competitor, and that won’t end well.”

He looked back on the field and felt his breath hitch; the prince was already on a horse, in his armor of blued steel. Ed had seen him wearing it before, at previous tournaments, but back then he never paid attention; now he was mesmerized by the prince’s beauty. The prince was smiling bright, and Ed swallowed; he rarely saw that smile now, so happy and careless. The crowd cheered, but Ed was completely dumbstruck, trapped in the moment; the illusion crumbled in an eyeblink though, when the prince rode out to Lady Izumi to receive her favors. It was to signify their peace treaty; most of the court knew already they had argued, and Prince Roy wanted to make up with her in public. After her ribbon was tied on his spear, the prince returned to his position, and the signal was given; Ed fought the childish wish to close his eyes.

It was over very fast, though; the prince’s blow was strong enough for the Archer to fall, and his lover ran to him to check if Archer was alright. The crowd exploded, and Ed caught himself cheering with them; the prince sent a smile in their direction before turning his horse.

“He did it!” Ed clenched his fists, grinning widely, and Al snorted.

“And you doubted him. He’s good at jousting. But you were right, Archer was serious with his blow.”

Ed nodded and stood up. “I’ll go check up on His Grace.”

The prince had gone to a pavilion already; he was being undressed when Ed walked in.

“How do you feel, Your Grace?” Ed bowed.

Prince Roy grinned. “Victorious. Archer is a great opponent, and it’s always a pleasure to joust with him. And I got to annoy the hell out of my sister. She was against me participating. Never lets me have fun.”

“And your lungs?” Ed tilted his head. “I am glad you didn’t get hit.”

“So am I, Ed, so am I. It’s not a pleasant feeling, I must admit. My lungs are okay. Certainly not worse than this morning, at least. But I appreciate your concern.” He started dressing up properly, not a bit ashamed; Ed chuckled, watching him. “It feels nice to win, even if it’s my last joust. I am going to miss it,” the prince said quietly.

Ed sighed. “Are you sure you’re making the right choice, sir?”

The prince shook his head. “I am not sure in anything, Ed. It may be my worst decision ever, but at least it’s my own. Not my brother’s, not my aunt’s. They all tried to keep me from falling for anybody, knowing that I am likely to get sick, and I wasn’t… well, wasn’t allowed to fall in love. But you know human hearts. They don’t listen to us, just do their thing. And I missed the first stage, when it all could be reverted, and only understood when I started coughing.”

“The first stage?” Ed echoed, inattentive. The prince nodded.

“The taste, the rustling. Could be anything, right? A common cold of some sort, a one-time incident. But when the cough starts, it all becomes clear, you look back and you see when it all has started.”

“So you didn’t know you were in love, until it was too late?..” It made sense; the first symptoms were small, not important. Not many people assumed they had petals just because their food had a weird taste or their throat hurt a little; it took a first serious coughing for to suspect something, and from then it was already too late to revert it.

“Kind of. I was busy, and then the next thing I knew, I was in pain. But I won’t be in pain much longer, at least. Isn’t that a relief?..” The prince smiled, a sad smile this time; Ed briefly squeezed his hand and left. The retinue probably was just starting preparations for a party to celebrate the prince’s victory; Ed wanted to help them with that.

 

While the usual exercises of Prince Roy were limited, he still needed entertainment; so instead of training with his swords or daggers he reverted to mastering his skills with a longbow, lead by the queen herself. Prince Thomas was recruited to help with the arrows; his sisters were looked after by the queen’s ladies. Ed was also watching — he preferred to be close to Prince Roy to be able to help; the day fits repeated, and Ed was worried that one day the prince’d collapse in front of the entire court. But the prince refused to even talk about it; he sent Ed to the ladies, ordering him not to intervene, so Ed busied himself by talking and playing with the princesses.

He was just wrapping up a story about Ancient Xerxesian gods, when a guard approached them, leading a vaguely familiar kid.

“Master Elric!” The kid slapped the guard’s hand and rushed to Ed, then stopped three feet away and made a weird half-bow half-curtsey.

“Fletcher?” Ed gave Princess Olga to Lady Gracia and stood up. “What happened?”

Fletcher sniffled, shoulders hunched; the weird green hat that Fletcher wore last time was askew, blond hair sticking out. “Father… he died. We gave him medicines as Master Van Hohenheim prescribed, and he visited father two days ago, but Russell went to check on him now, and he was cold, and…” Fletcher stopped, and Ed came closer, hugging the kid.

“I should go,” Ed turned to the ladies, and they nodded in synch. “Let’s go fetch Al and Van Hohenheim, and we’ll decide what to do next. Did Russell stay home?”

Fletcher nodded. “All alone. What are we going to do now, Master Elric?”

Ed squeezed Fletcher’s hand. “We’ll see. Don’t be afraid.”

When they reached Van Hohenheim’s study, Ed knocked carefully; Trisha opened the door.

“This is Fletcher Tringham,” — Ed said, pushing Fletcher forward, — “Nash Tringham died this morning, and they need help.”

Van Hohenheim cleared a chair for Fletcher to sit down and started asking questions in a hushed voice; Trisha sent a servant to find Al and bring him there.

“Me and Al will go to their house. I’ll take care of Nash, and Al will help them pack their things. I think His Majesty won’t object to hiring two very capable apothecaries,” Van Hohenheim ruffled Fletcher’s hair, obviously deep in thoughts. “But you and Al will have to share your room for a couple of days, I’m afraid.”

“I understand,” Ed nodded. “Do you need my assistance?”

Van Hohenheim shrugged. “Perhaps, you could ask the queen’s opinion? I doubt she would object, though, but it’s better to be sure.”

Ed nodded again and left. He was slightly worried about Tringhams, but if they end up in the palace, then they’ll be doted upon; Van Hohenheim needed new apprentices to take care of. New children, even: Ed and Al obviously weren’t enough.

The queen didn’t object upon hearing the news; having an apothecary around when her brother-in-law was sick was indeed a good idea; Prince Roy also didn’t mind at all. He was curious about Tringhams; he saw Ed leaving with Fletcher and wanted to know who that Russell was.

In the evening most of it was arranged: Al moved most needed things to Ed’s room, and Russell and Fletcher took Al’s room instead. Soon they’d be given their own lodgings, but before that Ed had a chance to spend time with his brother, sharing a bed, like they did in those old times. It was less than a year ago, and still it felt like an eternity; Ed had changed a lot since then, and he liked to think he grew up as a person.

After the evening examination Ed returned to his room and started undressing; Al was already in bed, yawning and stretching.

“How are they? Russell and Fletcher, I mean.”

Al winced. “Sad. Well, Fletcher is sad. Russell is angry. But in the same time… Fletcher is ready to move on, to find something new to do, and Russell is… well, angry that their dad left them. But they seem to like Van Hohenheim, so they should adjust easily. How was the prince?”

“Fine. Whined about not being good enough with a longbow, but Jean says he improved a lot since they met.” Ed flopped on the bed and blew the candle. “Don’t know why he cares, though. It’s not like he’s going to fight, and definitely not with a longbow.”

Al snorted. “He wants to be good in it. Just embrace it. At least he’s working for it. And it keeps him busy — wasn’t that what you wanted? He would be busy and you would be left to your own devices.”

“Well… not exactly?.. I enjoy spending time with him and his men. I mean, I am not a soldier, so I miss out a lot, but they are not just soldiers either.”

“I warn you once more, don’t fall for him. Won’t end well for you.” Al said gravely and hugged him tight, putting his head on Ed’s chest. Ed ruffled his hair affectionately and sighed.

“I am not going to fall for him, Al. I know he’s in love, and he’s going to die.” Ed wanted to continue, but Al shushed him.

“Take a deep breath,” he ordered, and Ed obeyed; after several breaths Al punched him in the stomach.

“You are wheezing!” He said, suddenly angry. “And you complained about the food being too bitter!”

Ed blinked, lost. “What? I don’t…” He stopped and listened to his own breathing again. Something was off; Ed felt something… something like a beginning of a cold, whispers and rustling in his lungs; the food still tasted bitter, but sugar helped with that. “No way!” Ed sat up on the bed, clutching the blanket in his hands. “No — fucking — way!”

Al sighed. “All the way. When did it start? I assume it’s His Grace, isn’t it?”

Ed lied down again, trying to count the days. “Two weeks tops. Or, wait… no. The taste started before Prince Ervin was born, so may be a month? But the lungs thing is new. And no, it’s not him… I’m not… I’m not in love with Prince Roy, I’m just… Ugh! Could be common cold, you know?”

“Could be, but it isn’t. I see how you look at him, Ed. Maybe others don’t notice, but I know you, and I am convinced you are falling for him. And if he doesn’t love you back…” Al stopped himself.

“It’s not him!” Ed elbowed him. He couldn’t possibly be in love with the prince — they were nothing more than friends, not even close ones: they had so little in common, stuck together because the king ordered so.

“Be it your way.” Al turned his back to him. “But I warn you. Be careful, and please, please, don’t wake me up tomorrow when you go.”

 

Ed contemplated waking Al up the next morning, to make him pay for all his assumptions, but he decided against it; after all, Al didn’t see the full picture, so his confusion was easy to explain.

Prince Roy decided to spend the day with the king, though, discussing something very important; Ishval was quiet for now, but pretty soon the heat would be gone, and the weather would allow armies to fight. The Margrave of Dar Rheos, Basque Grand, was said to arrive to court soon; perhaps they would be planning who should continue the war after the prince was gone.

That thought caused a sharp pang of pain in Ed’s chest; Ed tossed the thought that Al could be right aside, firmly deciding that he was not in love, and that of all people Prince Roy would be the last to receive such affection. Instead of thinking about his feelings Ed chose to help Tringhams to adjust at the court; he led them through the palace, showing every nook and cranny; he knew the place as the back of his hand.

Fletcher was quite cheerful; the funeral was tomorrow evening, and Fletcher had decided that the grief should better be saved until then. Russell was, as Al mentioned, angry — but come dinnertime he cheered up too, asking Ed about court life. Ed shared willingly — he could compare how different the courts of the Central City and of Dublith were, and he heard a lot about Lady Chris’ court in East City as well. All three had their own traditions, their little things; some things were similar, and some were from different worlds.

The fate of the Tringhams was already decided; the king had appointed them his new apothecaries, with Russell in charge of Fletcher, and Van Hohenheim was busy with preparing the rooms for them; he was excited to have colleagues around, even though they were so young.

Once, they passed Prince Roy in the halls; Ed introduced Tringhams to him and explained what happened. The prince nodded politely and left them to their little excursion; he seemed troubled, and Ed didn’t ask any questions.

That evening Prince Roy seemed absent minded, faraway; he obediently drank all what Ed brought him, and went to sleep without arguing. But the next morning he looked fatigued; to Ed’s question he answered that he had very little sleep at night, the noise in his chest keeping him awake. Sleep disorders weren’t a rare thing in the petal disease, but it all should be happening later; Ed sighed and checked his father’s supply of poppy seeds. Poppy tea was dangerous when used too often, causing addiction; but if Prince Roy wasn’t able to fall asleep, then some measures ought to be taken.

Before dinner Ed was stuck with Van Hohenheim, Al and Tringhams; they made a full list of all supplies they had in the apothecary, and Van Hohenheim decided what should be bought; Ed received medicines he would need in the next two weeks and brought it back to Prince Roy’s privy chamber.

After the dinner the prince decided he wanted to spend some time with his nephew; they both, accompanied by the courtiers, went to the gardens. But two rowdy princes couldn’t just walk calmly — no, they just  _ had _ to play tag in front of the entire court; Prince Roy was surely winning, being a faster runner, and Ed couldn’t avoid the temptation to cheer for Prince Thomas.

Prince Roy finally gave up, letting his nephew tag him, and ran after him a bit too slow — to give him time to run farther; but when he was almost reaching Prince Thomas, Prince Roy stopped suddenly and nearly collapsed in a coughing fit, a terrible one — almost as bad as the one he had soon after Winry’s arrival. Ed heard a loud gasp — courtiers present had no idea he was sick, but that cough couldn’t be mistaken for a cold.

Ed rushed to Prince Roy and took out a small box with pills; the prince swallowed a pill with some trouble and leaned on Ed’s shoulder. His hands were trembling a little; his face was too pale.

“Uncle Roy, are you sick?” Prince Thomas asked; he was scared, poor boy, and Prince Roy reached out to pat his shoulder.

“A little. I will be okay soon,” he smiled warmly, and Ed gulped. He wouldn’t be okay; soon enough Prince Thomas would know that.

“You need to rest,” Ed led Prince Roy inside, holding his hand. He could hear the courtiers talking; the whole crowd had seen the prince coughing. In half an hour the whole palace would know; by the evening — the entire city.

In his rooms Prince Roy lied down on a couch, while Ed was brewing him another infusion. His breath was laboured, but at least he didn’t cough anymore; and there were no petals yet, or Ed would smell that stuffy sweetness in the air.

“Are you feeling better now?” Ed asked, bringing him a cup. The prince shrugged and sat up.

“Physically — yes, a bit. But so many people saw…” He winced and put his hand on his chest. “They would know sooner or later, but it’s too soon. And at this moment… Couldn’t be more unfortunate.”

Ed sat down next to him. “His Majesty will figure it out,” he said quietly, touching Prince Roy’s shoulder. “The court would learn the truth one day, and I am sure he has something prepared.”

“He does,” Prince Roy smiled, tired. “Do you mind if I go to sleep now? I feel drained.”

Ed nodded. “You should rest, Your Grace. Go to bed, I’ll tell Jean and the others that you’re resting, so they’ll be quiet.”

The prince returned the emptied cup and stood up; when he walked to the door of his bedroom, Ed noticed he staggered. That was bad; worse even than the rumors.

The pain in his chest returned; Ed winced. He refused to be in love — not with a dying man, no, not that. But Al must have seen something — he was rarely wrong about these things; even when Ed didn’t agree with him, Al usually ended up being right. They’d see; Ed still hoped he could make his own sickness go away, and then there’d be nothing to worry about.


	5. Chapter 5

The rumors spread, just as they always did. Everybody tried to guess who that person was; none of their guesses were even close. Most assumed a woman, of course; Prince Roy did nothing to prove or disprove it. He avoided any talk of his condition, always surrounded by his men; but people were curious, and there was not much to do to keep them from asking.

Ed also got questions; now most people figured out why he was appointed to the prince, which meant that Prince Roy was sick back then already. It, luckily, excluded Ed from the list of suspects; but most of the retinue and Maes Hughes were asked repeatedly if Prince Roy was coughing for them.

The rumors also provided ground for political unrest; if Prince Roy was going to die, then who would fight in Ishval in his stead? That was the question that Margrave of Dar Rheos asked immediately after his arrival, sitting in Prince Roy’s privy chamber; he was a large man with soldier’s manners, obviously unused to the court’s rules; his bow was clumsy, and he looked very out of place in the luxurious rooms, but Ed couldn’t help but like him anyway.

“Can you fight?” Margrave asked nervously, looking at Prince Roy; the prince was pale, his chest pain getting worse. He was still capable of sleeping without using poppy tea, but Ed had moved to the privy chamber recently: his presence was sometimes needed at night, even if only for playing chess with the prince until he fell asleep again.

“I will,” Prince Roy smiled softly. “If Aerugovians attack. Their ambassador knows already, of course, so it’s only a question of when they’ll be able to assemble an army.”

“They had troubles with it in the spring, I recall. Most Aerugovians consider Ishval lost, and they don’t want to die in a war they’ve lost already.” Margrave nodded solemnly. “But if you are out, then they might have a chance.”

“They won’t have a chance with or without me, Basque. I know you. You won battles before I even came to Ishval, and you can do it again without me. But I think it’ll only take one big loss for Aerugovians to start talking of peace, and it should happen soon.”

“Ishvalans won’t fight until Aerugovians strike first, and Aerugo needs to get an army to strike. How… how long do you have?” He looked at Ed, and Ed sighed.

“Three to four years,” he lied; Prince Roy winced.

“Two years until I die, but I plan to leave the court in a year or so. That’s a generous estimate, given by Van Hohenheim. It develops fast, and it’s possible that I’ll die even faster.” Prince Roy took a sip from his cup; Ed brewed him some sweet clover to help with the cough. “My brother has a plan how to force Aerugovians to attack, so it’ll happen soon. One last battle while I’m still capable of sitting on a horse, and then I can die with clear conscience.”

“He won’t allow you to fight.  _ I _ won't allow you to fight,” Ed frowned. Prince Roy shrugged.

“I’ll die soon anyway. I would prefer to die in a battle, fast and with honor, than in my bed, in horrible pain. Jay knows that. He is not  _ happy _ about it, but he understands.”

Margrave snorted. “Very you. What does Maes think? If he’s capable of leaving his family for a while, I would like him to be by my side.”

“He is ready to take over after I’m gone. He fought with us all these years, and I trust you two to finish what we’ve started.”

“How do you want to make Aerugovians attack? We can’t provoke them in Ishval, and honestly I can think of nothing that would do the trick.”

Prince Roy smiled — grinned, even. “Ed,” — he called suddenly, — “do you want to get a title? Baronet of something of your choice. Youswell, for example. It’s in North-East, a dull place, but it won’t require your presence often.”

“Uhm, no? I don’t need a title, Your Grace. I doubt I’ll stay at court for much longer.”

The prince’s smile turned mischievous. “Oh, but you do. To uphold my status. The ceremony for my nephew is planned for the next week, and he won’t be the only one getting a title of his own. And besides, I think you’ve earned it, for all your care.”

Ed rolled his eyes. He hadn’t earned a title — if anything, he ought to be punished; his patient’s condition was getting worse, and Ed could do nothing to slow it down; it couldn’t be just Prince Roy’s stubbornness. Ed must be doing something terribly wrong. Still, arguing was useless; Youswell it was.

Margrave looked at Ed and then at the prince. “So that is what His Majesty’s planning? Alright. Yes, Aerugovians’ll be livid.”

He didn’t elaborate further; nobody seemed to need an explanation though, Ed the only one left in the dark. He’d see; the king and the prince must have known what they’re doing.

 

The ceremony was exhausting; Ed got too used to the simplicity of Prince Roy’s retinue, with their… what the rest of the court would call lack of manners. Ed himself used to think that they were just ill-behaved; he knew better now.

Prince Thomas would be awarded a title that used to belong to Prince Roy: Lord Protector of Northern Ishval, the title that tied Amestrian princes to the Ishvalan lands; the war that Prince Roy fought there was a part of his duties, to protect Northern Ishval from Aerugovians; if they went a step too far and ended up in Southern Ishval once or twice, there was no tragedy in that.

The Presence Chamber was full, people whispering; Ed had to stand in the first row, since he was getting a title — Baronet of Some-Place-He-Never-Heard-Of, — so he had a terrific view; the throne was barely five steps away. They added chairs for Prince Roy, Lady Izumi and Lady Chris, so the whole family was together; Prince Roy looked stronger today, so Ed almost wasn’t worried.

Prince Thomas went first, of course: he was dressed as a proper adult now, his clothes made out of finest fabrics. The king smiled at him and went on with traditional formulas.

“I hereby grant you the title of Lord Protector of Ishval,” the king declared, laying a richly decorated hat on his son’s head, and the crowd gasped — it seemed to be a habit of crowds. Of Ishval — the whole of Ishval, not just the Northern part of it; was it what Prince Roy was talking about? Something to poke Aerugo; their ambassador seemed very displeased. Prince Roy smiled, however; he winked to Ed when their eyes met for a second.

After everything was done Ed returned to Prince Roy’s rooms; the retinue congratulated him. They were planning celebrations for the prince’s 30th birthday: after that the season of celebrations would be over till the New Year. Prince Roy refused to celebrate, though; he was experiencing depression of spirits, combined with constant fatigue; the retinue had planned to entertain him a little, but most of their usual ways of celebrating were out of question now. Not with that noise in his chest — the prince had complained that it didn’t let him fall asleep at night. How he was going to fight in Ishval, Ed had no idea; but Ed saw no possible way of keeping him home.

 

Aerugo took the bait; a week later their ambassador handed the king an official note that the war was inevitable; the spies, however, said that their army is far from ready. Prince Roy was set to leave for Ishval two days after his birthday; Margrave of Dar Rheos had left already to prepare the troops.

Ed had to agree; he still kindled hope that he could keep prince Roy from joining the battle, especially since the retinue and Maes Hughes took his side; having a fit at the court was one thing, and having a fit in the middle of the battle… nobody wanted to imagine that. But Prince Roy was not listening: he had already planned his glorious death, and nothing could make him change his mind.

Prince Roy’s birthday was coming; Ed even had a small present prepared, approved by the rest of the retinue, a Xingese printed book, one of the latest novelties; according to Lady Chris, it contained classical poetry, which Prince Roy was so fond of. Ed had wanted to ask the prince to translate some shorter poems; he knew that Prince Roy was interested in such tasks.

The celebrations were grandiose — a preparation for the funeral, as Prince Roy had described it. He almost didn’t participate — had little strength to do so, except for several dances: a pavane with his sister, a lively galliard with the queen, and a slow Cretan dance that Ed knew no name for with Winry; she was a nice dancer, and Prince Roy seemed to enjoy her company. It was almost sure to provoke new wave of rumors, but the prince didn’t care anymore; luckily, most of the courtiers knew better than to bother him after seeing him snap at Lord High Chancellor Grumman.

Ed danced a little too — with Lady Catherine Armstrong, Winry’s closest friend. She was a sweet girl, a year or two younger than Ed, and, judging by their short talks in past months, just as smart as she was pretty. Were she a guy, Ed could have fallen for her; but he suspected Winry might have done just that.

Prince Roy seemed to like his gift: he was mesmerized by the printed — not written — Xingese text. Most of the Xingese books that reached Amestris were written by hand, the complexity of the characters requiring a lot of skill, but this one could easily be reproduced: the technology behind that was showing a lot of promise. The content also was to Prince Roy’s liking: he even recited one of the poems, his voice rolling around unfamiliar sounds. Ed had recently discovered that he enjoyed listening to people speaking languages he didn’t know; but Xingese was the one he would like to learn one day. He preferred not to dig into his reasons to do it, however; it was too much for now.

The feast continued even after Prince Roy slipped out quietly; Maes Hughes announced that the prince needed rest. But Ed was not summoned to perform an examination, as he did every evening; it was unusual, so he decided to find Prince Roy. Of course, he could be anywhere, but it was still better than stay in the hall going mad with anxiety. It didn’t take long, though; a guard that Ed had remembered by the incident with Fletcher’s arrival said to Ed in a hushed voice that the prince had gone to the Privy Gardens; after some hesitation Ed followed him there.

It wasn’t even quite night yet; but the sun had almost set, and Ed could barely see in the twilight. It was enough light though to see Prince Roy standing by an oak tree, leaning on it; Ed considered shouting to attract his attention, but instead he just walked closer. The prince was looking at his hand; when Ed stepped closer to him, he felt a wave of nauseatingly sweet smell and shuddered; he knew that smell, could recognise it.

“Your Grace!” He almost ran those last feet, and Prince Roy jolted, trying to hide his hand, but Ed was faster — there was blood on his fingers, and Ed saw several flower petals that sticked to his skin. He had been coughing — and it was the true petal cough this time, one of the latest stages; Ed felt tears coming and forced himself to calm down.

“Ed?..” The prince looked at him, as if not recognising, and Ed wiped his palm with his own handkerchief. “What are you…” He sounded broken, voice raspy; Ed fought the wish to hug him.

“I wondered if you went to bed,” Ed let Prince Roy lean on him, leading him back to the palace. “Was it the first time when petals appeared?” From such short distance the smell of flowers was even stronger; it would disappear in an hour but return with the next coughing fit. In any other situation Ed would find that specific smell pleasant, but now it signified the development of Prince Roy’s sickness, and Ed hated the thought that he was going to die soon. Even sooner now — they were running out of time to change something.

The prince shrugged — tried to. “I don’t know. I think so. It hurts, Ed, it… I want it all to end, Ed, just so I will be gone finally.” It hurt him to talk, it seemed; Ed wished he was able to just carry Prince Roy to bed instead of leading him.

Finally they reached the privy chamber, and Ed led the prince to bed; he had no choice but to undress him himself. The examination was short, rushed this time: Prince Roy was still in pain, and Ed had to brew him some poppy tea — not a strong one, diluted with water, — to help the pain go away for a while. Ed stayed by his side when the prince fell asleep, watching his chest rise and fall, counting the days; now it was clear that the prince was unlikely to see next summer. Tears were here again; but Ed was too afraid to wake Prince Roy up to let himself cry, so he stifled it, breathing deeply and evenly. His own sickness was still there; Ed had hoped he could eliminate the feeling, but it didn’t seem like the case; but he still had trouble believing he could be sick for the prince. Ed wanted to be his friend — not his lover; but when did Ed really know what he wants?

Ed didn’t notice how he fell asleep in his chair; it was Jean who woke him up a couple of hours later, when the celebrations were over.

“Did something happen?” Jean asked, brows furrowing. Ed sighed, standing up to stretch.

“Petals,” he gave Jean the handkerchief. “He can’t go to Ishval. Not like this.”

“He can’t not go,” Jean studied the bloody stain closely. “And you know what’ll happen if we try to stop him.”

“Oh, I can guess,” Ed led him outside, to the privy chamber. “I screwed up, Jean, so hard. He is dying, and it’s been what, half a year? Half a year ago we had estimated he had at least five years more. Now I’m not sure he’ll make it till next summer if it continues.”

Jean put his hand on Ed’s shoulder. “What can you do, Ed? He wanted to die ever since he learned he was sick. He was preparing for it, even. And he knew what would happen. With petals there’s really nothing that doctors can do, except for some moral support. But listen, his love is at court, I am sure of it. If we leave for Ishval… they’ll be separated, so perhaps it’ll help him for a while. If he isn’t reminded every day of that person, maybe it could slow the sickness down.”

Ed considered it carefully. “It’s possible. And it could be a distraction — you said he loves Dar Rheos garrison, so he’ll feel better there, I hope.”

“Yes!” Jean nodded enthusiastically. “But you should tell Knox about the petals. He’s the only person I know that could forbid His Grace to fight.”

“So be it. I wish I knew who that person was, so I could knock some sense into them, but I don’t even know where to look,” Ed winced. “Who could it be? How can they be so cold? And His Grace won’t tell, not until it’s too late to do anything. Stubborn bastard.” He glanced at the prince’s bedroom’s door. He would gladly drag the prince to wherever his love was, and force him to confess; but now he was afraid Prince Roy had passed the point of no return, when even requited love couldn’t make the flowers go away; they would kill him before his heart would restore itself to battle the plants.

 

In the morning Prince Roy felt slightly better: he was still too pale for Ed’s liking, though. In the daylight Ed could study the petals — crispy-white for now, but as sickness develops, they’d slowly acquire a scarlet hue. Ed had seen those dark-red petals that Van Hohenheim had cut out from one of his patient’s chest: thorny branches with no leaves and dark flowers in full bloom. On the latest stages there were undeveloped fruits as well, but Ed had never seen those with his own eyes; most patients died before that, either from plants choking them, or their lungs giving up, or from their grief and sadness; many took their own lives because they didn’t want to die in terrible pain.

“I really should report to His Majesty,” Ed said after finishing his examination. Prince Roy glanced at him and put his shirt on.

“Haven’t you yet?” He asked, genuine surprise in his voice. Ed shrugged.

“He won’t allow you to go to Ishval if he learns you’re coughing petals. But I know how important is it to you.” Ed had thought about it a lot — but somehow betraying Prince Roy’s trust felt worse than disobeying King Zolf’s orders. “I would appreciate it though if you were careful in Ishval, but I’ve learned already that you and being careful don’t go along.”

Prince Roy laughed shortly. “Indeed. Thank you, Ed. I’ll try to, but I can’t promise anything now.” He dressed and left; the king kept him busy with the meetings. There was still much to do before they leave.

Ed left too — he needed to pick up some medicines from Russell, and so it happened that he got stuck in the apothecary till the dinner, arguing with Russell about some herbs’ effects. Russell knew what he was talking about, but he sincerely believed that most herbs should be combined with bloodletting for a better effect; Ed, raised and taught by Van Hohenheim with all his novelty methods, had little faith in bloodlettings, thinking them a waste of time. It might be good as a short-term solution, but blood loss could be much worse for the patient in the long run, and Ed preferred to avoid it. They never tried bloodletting on the prince — Van Hohenheim only agreed to perform it if the patient insisted, refusing to listen to the voice of reason. Sadly, a lot of patients at court were like that — they always thought they know better than a doctor, so why they even needed a doctor was a question in itself.

Ed was forgiving though: Russell still had much to learn; but his stubbornness drove Ed insane. It was bad enough that he had to deal with the royal family every damn day; he had no strength left for dealing with Tringhams as well. They made up after some arguing though, and when Prince Roy went to them to ask Ed if he dines with them Ed and Russell were reading a book quite peacefully and discussing it, their heads almost touching. The prince smiled apologetically; he seemed to be nervous every time he needed Ed’s attention despite being entitled to get it at first call.

“We need to plan our route as well,” prince Roy said, walking with Ed to his chambers. “Usually we stay for the third night in one of the Risembool’s taverns, but I thought, perhaps, you wanted to see your grandparents, Lord and Lady Elric. I know you’re not close, but you could…” He stumbled over his words.

“If you want to, Your Grace. I am not eager to see them, but staying at somebody’s estate should be more comfortable for you than sleeping in a tavern.” Ed saw no point in talking to his grandparents, but some nasty part of him wanted to rub his new title and position into their faces: even though he didn’t care about his title,  _ they _ did.

Prince Roy beamed at him. “Great! I’ll ask Jean to make arrangements. He knows them quite well, being raised in that part of the country. And then next day we’ll be arriving in Ishval, at Dar Rheos first. A day there, and we’ll move to the garrison. I would prefer for you to stay at Dar Rheos though, away from the battle, but I might need your help. Knox had never dealt with the petals, and while I trust him as a surgeon… I would still like for you to be around.”

Ed touched his hand, squeezing it lightly. “I understand. I wouldn’t stay in Dar Rheos anyway. Not when you’re like this. It’s my duty after all, to take care of you.”

Prince Roy’s smile faltered; Ed must have said something wrong. “Thank you, Ed.”

 

Their last night before departing to Ishval was uneventful; Prince Roy hadn’t had a petal cough in these two days, and Ed was much less worried now. He was curious about seeing Ishval — Prince Roy mentioned Dar Rheos as his favorite garrison, and Ed wanted to see it with his own eyes.

Al wasn’t so excited though: he was worried about Ed. Al kept nagging Ed about his sickness: Ed didn’t cough yet, and anyway it was unlikely that his own sickness would develop as fast as it did in Prince Roy. But Al was certain that Ed was in love with the prince; that meant that when prince Roy died, Ed was sure to follow. Ed denied it: his attraction to the prince was physical, mixed with deep respect; in his eyes it wasn’t love at all. Al disagreed: he tried to force Ed to give him his definition of love to break it apart word by word, but Ed refused to; last thing he needed to was Al telling Roy all his dirty secrets — Ed was sure that if Al decided Prince Roy was in love with Ed and Ed was in love with Prince Roy, he’d forget all his promises about not meddling and would just tell the prince everything — better be punished but save their lives than to see them both die of their stubbornness.

Ed had no wish to die — yet; but he had no wish to share his love with anybody. He wasn’t even completely sure he was in love with the prince; it was still too new, too uncertain. Could be anybody; could even not be love at all. Cough and bad food, that’s it; that was the thought Ed used to comfort himself.

Another reason for them both to worry was Ed’s visit to their grandparents; they remembered very little of their last visit to Risembool, and Ed could expect almost anything. Their treatment of Trisha was terrible, of course; but who knew — what if they had changed their minds since then? It was more than twenty years ago: people could change in a matter of months, Ed knew that now.

They left at dawn; Ed had given Prince Roy poppy tea the night before, and now the prince was well-rested at least — and cheerful, despite the unhappy occasion. His retinue was also excited — they all firmly believed that the Ishvalan war could be ended soon, and Ed was inclined to believe them. Judging of what he heard in the past few days, it was indeed so — Aerugovians were tired of that war already, and they looked for an excuse to give Ishval up.

The travel itself was quite nice; everybody was glad to finally leave the court and become themselves again. Maes Hughes, who chose to accompany them, was riding next to Prince Roy: he was bragging about his beautiful daughter again, whining what a shame it was that the prince hadn’t had any children. He still had time to conceive a bastard, of course; but Prince Roy wasn’t enthusiastic about it.

“I see no point in conceiving a child that I won’t be able to raise,” he said, squinting at the road. “And besides, who would agree to that?”

“Any lady at court, I would say,” Ed shrugged. “You’re popular, and the mystery of your sickness is only teasing them.”

Prince Roy sighed. “Wouldn’t it be an exercise that you would ban? Physically demanding and all. But again, I am not interested in those ladies, and that is one of the activities that are much more enjoyable when you’re doing it with a person you care deeply about. Don’t you agree, Ed?”

Ed felt blood rushing to his cheeks. “Ye-yes, Your Grace. Wholeheartedly.” He had no experience in that field so far, always too busy with his studies; now, when he was in Prince Roy’s retinue, he had admirers offering him ‘enjoyable activities’, but Ed had no interest in those offers. No, if he were to do the ancient dance with somebody, it would be somebody Ed truly loved.

Maes chuckled. “Don’t embarrass him, Roy. The boy will get there in his own time. But I’m sure there must be a lady you fancy, Ed,” he winked, and Ed’s blush grew deeper. Maes obviously meant Winry; a popular gossip those days involved a love triangle between Prince Roy, Ed and Winry, although the connections between them varied.

“No,” Ed mumbled. “There’s no lady. I don’t fancy anybody.” It was clearly untrue; Maes Hughes and Prince Roy exchanged meaningful glances. Ed rode forward to avoid further embarrassment; they continued talking behind his back, but Ed was saved from hearing what they were saying.

He tried not to imagine Prince Roy naked — not to remember it; now the prince didn’t forget to lock the bedroom door when he was bathing, but Ed had rich imagination and good memory; it would be his undoing, that was for sure. His attempts to forget were in vain; so Ed tried to distract himself with planning the meeting with his grandparents. He didn’t know what to say to them; Ed kind of hoped that Prince Roy would do all the talking for him.

 

They entered Elrics’ lands on the third evening; it was getting late, and Prince Roy was tired already. He didn’t say it, his pride not letting him admit his weakness, but Ed could tell by the way his shoulders were sloped, back hunched. The moment a servant appeared in their way the prince straightened though, looking regal — his head held high, movements confident. Another mask — but Ed knew better than to fall for that now.

The servant led them to the house — much smaller than Ed remembered, visibly decaying; the Elrics had had some hard times after disowning their daughter. While she rose, they fell; Ed felt a pang of pity for them.

“Your Royal Highness,” — Lord Elric said, bowing as deep as he could in his age, — “we are honored to welcome you and your men at our estate. We hope you’ll find everything to be to your liking.”

Prince Roy nodded, acknowledging their words, and dismounted; the rest of the entourage followed his example.

“I believe you’ve met the Baron of Xenotime and the Baronet of Youswell,” Prince Roy said, waving at his retinue; Lord Elric blinked, evidently lost, but in a moment he regained his composure, bowing to Jean and Ed as well. The prince went on with introducing his retinue, in a same cold tone that he used at court with people he didn’t particularly like; Ed shuddered a little. His grandparents looked anxious, on the verge of fear: they knew perfectly how much power the prince had over them, and it seemed to horrify them.

They were led inside, and in a matter of minutes a supper was served: Lord Elric apologised profusely for the food not being luxurious enough, but the prince assured them it was more than adequate: nobody expected them to serve a feast worthy of the kings. While they ate, Ed glanced at his grandparents. Back when he was a child they were much scarier, mostly just for being adults; now they were just an old man and an old woman, greying and ill. Lady Elric looked very much like Trisha; Lord Elric, however, had little resemblance with her. Nobody looked like Ed, of course; he was too Xerxesian for keeping any Amestrian features.

It was too late; Prince Roy declared they have to leave early tomorrow, so any entertainments prepared wouldn’t be appreciated properly. The masters of the house didn’t argue: they had rooms prepared, and soon enough Prince Roy was in his bed. Ed stayed with him — he wanted to see if the prince improved away from the court, with his love staying in the capital; such an experiment required careful monitoring of his condition.

In the morning they rose later than planned though; the prince was sleeping peacefully, and since Dar Rheos wasn’t that far away, Ed had decided to let him sleep. Prince Roy needed rest, more than he could get, and Ed wouldn’t be the one to deprive him of it. While he was sleeping, Ed went to talk to his grandparents; their sad standing bothered him for some reason he couldn’t quite name.

They were glad to see him, though; their apologies were accepted, Ed saw no harm in that, but when they started talking about his father not being worthy, Ed cut them off quite rudely. He knew the story — Van Hohenheim was a poor travelling doctor, asked to see to Lord Elric’s gout; when he arrived he fell in love with young Lady Trisha. When she fell sick as well, he tended to her; it took them months to gather strength to confess to her parents, and immediately after that they were forced to flee. She was betrothed then; Ed had no idea to whom, but her betrothed had no objections when their promise was broken, so perhaps it wasn’t worth the fuss.

In Elrics’ eyes Van Hohenheim stole their daughter though, and the fact that both of their grandchildren could easily pass as full-blooded Xerxesians wasn’t making it better. Locals had a lot of prejudice against Xerxesians and Ishvalans, and Van Hohenheim’s low estate wasn’t helping either. Were he a noble, it could be different; but were he a noble, perhaps, he and Trisha would never have met. Still, they were happy together; Ed saw how much they loved each other, and he couldn’t understand how his grandparents could hate the man who made their daughter so happy, their prejudice more important than her wellbeing.

After storming out — Ed could have behaved better, but he had no wish to, — he went to talk about it with Maes; he was the only one in their party who had a child, and Ed desperately needed a parent’s perspective. Maes only proved his suspicions though: he would wish happiness for his baby daughter too, despite whom she might end up loving; with one condition only — if that person were a good man. Van Hohenheim, in his eyes, was such — were Maes Hughes Trisha’s father, he would accept him as a part of the family with joy.

When the prince was finally awake, Ed had calmed down already; after an examination they said their goodbyes and left. After a full night of sleep Prince Roy was in a good mood; it only proved Jean’s theory about his love staying in the capital. The less they saw each other, the less Prince Roy thought of  _ him _ ; the less was the pain of imminent rejection. If it all continued the same way, then the sickness could be slowed down; Ed sincerely hoped it would work.

But he had to be prepared for another outcome: if the sickness developed as it did before, then soon enough the prince would be in terrible pain day and night; he would be depressed, his soul suffering no less than his body. It was the stage where many took their lives, and many more asked for their physicians to end their sufferings. Ed, as Prince Roy’s doctor, must be prepared to act if he receives such a request: to let him depart from this world with as little pain as possible was the most humane thing to do. Ed avoided thinking of it; he had no wish to assist the prince in death, but as Van Hohenheim had noted before, it was an act of mercy. When a patient passed the point of no return, when their recovery was happening not fast enough to race with their body’s destruction, even the requited love caused pain; helping them escape it was the best the doctors could do.

 

Deep in his thoughts, Ed hadn’t noticed when they approached Dar Rheos; he only jolted awake when somebody addressed him, and finally started paying attention to his surroundings. The first thing Ed noticed was the amount of Ishvalans — he hadn’t seen so many in one place before. The other thing was the amount of soldiers; the city was filled with them, and the locals seemed not to notice. Everybody was used to living on the frontlines, with a war so close to their homes.

The prince was well-known here — people cheered upon seeing him, and he smiled back, openly and friendly. Some Xerxesians in the crowd waved to Ed as well, and Ed waved back: he knew that a lot of Xerxesians chose to live in Ishval, but seeing so many of his people was still unusual.

They were headed to the center of the city: a delegation was meeting them there, headed by a tall Ishvalan man with an X-shaped scar on his forehead. He was dressed in traditional Ishvalan clothes, not much different from the rest of the crowd, but by his posture Ed could tell he was someone important. He didn’t bow to prince Roy when he dismounted, but rather touched his palms in a strange gesture Ed hadn’t seen before; after saying something in Ishvalan and receiving a reply the man led prince Roy inside of the building. It was hardly a house; an open place surrounded by the columns, with a decorated roof on top, so Ed — and everybody around — could see what was happening inside.

Inside the prince kneeled before that man, and the man put his hand on prince Roy’s forehead; after he declared something loudly in Ishvalan, the crowd exploded in excited yelling; the retinue joined yelling as well.

“He received the blessings from Ishvala,” Jean told Ed quietly. “That guy, Scar, is Ishvala’s priest, the right hand of Logue Lowe, the Prophet of Ishvala.”

“Is that his name, Scar?” Ed asked, watching prince Roy return to his horse. Jean nodded.

“Ishvalans think their names are sacred, so most of them go by nicknames. Some are pretty upsetting, some are obscene, but that’s how nicknames go. Let’s go now, we have to meet the old Grand.”

The old Grand rode out to meet them: he was residing in a palace barely in three blocks away from the temple. This greeting was very business-like, no ceremonies expected: they had urgent matters to discuss. The party was to spend a night here and then head out to the garrison on the very border: spies said Aerugovians were already assembling their troops there, planning to strike. It was the first strike from Aerugovians what Amestrians needed: their Ishvalan soldiers refused to fight unprovoked, considering such war unjust.

That Logue Lowe that Jean had mentioned was there as well; an elderly man, who was leaning at his young assistant for support. As it was explained to Ed, Logue Lowe in fact ruled Ishvalans, giving out orders and explaining them through teachings of Ishvala. His power was supported by the priests led by Scar, and it was Logue Lowe who decided what Amestrians can and can’t do in Ishval. Prince Roy seemed to respect him a lot: as Jean had explained, Logue Lowe was a skilled politician, and Scar, his ‘heir’ of some sort, was good in politics as well. All sides of the argument — except for maybe the Aerugovian king, — knew what they needed and which price they could pay to get that, so they could find common grounds without any particular troubles.

While the prince was discussing politics, Ed was left to his own devices; but Ed was summoned to, as prince Roy had put it, ‘explain the current situation’. It meant telling them the prince was dying; a lot depended on him there, and his life estimation was necessary for deciding how they should act now. Ed suspected it meant ‘how reckless prince Roy is allowed to be’, but he didn’t voice his suspicions: as if prince Roy would listen to him if he did.

 

It all kept prince Roy busy and distracted; he’d had not one coughing fit since they left Central City. Ed was about to celebrate, but the cough struck when they arrived to the garrison, prince Roy folding in two as soon as he got off his horse. Ed was already on the ground, so he was the one to catch him and lead him to his tent. Luckily, there were no petals: Ed had no wish to deal with those rumors at the garrison.

Although it was hardly a garrison, more like a temporary camp: a sea of tents, with wooden walls around it. They ought to build something more permanent, Ed thought, but those plans were delayed until the war was finished. That might happen very soon — from what Ed heard most of the soldiers and officers were sure it was going to be the last battle.

Soon after the prince recovered after his fit, the tent was flooded with people: mostly officers who came to pay their respects. They, however, didn’t stay long; Margrave of Dar Rheos threw them out quite rudely, claiming that prince Roy needs to rest. But instead of letting him rest Margrave started talking about the battle — he just received news from his spies and needed to share. Ed chose to leave them alone; he had no interest in their war games. Instead he decided to take a walk around the camp — and the first place where he went was their tiny hospital.

It was formed out of several tents; Ed made a circle, deciding if he should peek inside, but before he could make up his mind a tall man walked out of one of the tents.

“Hey!” He stopped, giving Ed a wary look. “Aren’t you an Elric?”

Ed flinched. “Um, yes? Edward Elric. I’m here with His Grace.”

The man nodded. “I’m Knox. Come on in,” he led Ed to one of the tents: inside of it was some kind of a ward, with several cots for the patients. “Is it true that he’s dying?”

“Rumors, huh? He is. And, well… it’s bad. He doesn’t have much time,” Ed sighed. He saw no point in lying anymore: Knox used to be Prince Roy’s personal physician, so he of all people should know the truth. “I hope that taking him away from court will slow the sickness, but still…”He cut himself off. Knox gave him a wry smile.

“He’s stubborn, and there’s nothing you can do about it. But if it makes you feel better, he’s probably the worst patient you’ll ever have. Refuses any treatment, never gets enough rest, argues with you all the time, and if I count all the times when he tried to die with panache, oh…” He rolled his eyes. “Just deal with it. He’s not a bad guy underneath, but treating him from anything is hell.”

Ed shrugged. “He drinks his tisanes at least. And he has to rest now. But you’re right about stubborn, I think that’ll kill him faster than petals.”

Knox whistled. “How did you do it? When he was stabbed — you probably saw the scar on his side, — I had to ask Grand to hold him so I could re-bandage the wound. And he was  _ bleeding _ . Did he finally grow up?”

“Probably? He wasn’t happy when I was appointed, but he was too angry about people asking him who he’s coughing for to care about me.”

“Wait, you don’t know who it is? Not even a slightest idea?” Knox raised his eyebrow. Ed nodded.

“We all have  _ guesses _ , but he refuses to tell us the name. Says it’s none of our business. We suspect it’s somebody at the court, so separation will do him good.”

Knox frowned. “Actually… no, not likely. I remember him mentioning someone he cared for, but that person wasn’t close to him or anything. I think they didn’t really like him either. But the name escapes me,” he added, and Ed bit his cheek. Knox knew the name — he just refused to share it; what his reasons could be, Ed had no idea. But pushing was pointless; stubbornness must be contagious, that would be the only explanation.

“How did you recognise me, by the way? We’ve never met before, if I remember correctly.”

“We did, actually. You were about five? Maybe six. But now you’re a copy of your father when he was your age. So I assumed you’re one of his sons, but I haven’t seen Alphonse for too long to actually be able to tell you apart.”

“He has short hair.” Ed laughed. “That’s how most people tell us apart. We are not twins, but for Amestrians most Xerxesians look the same. He stayed in the capital, helping father. Van Hohenheim got two apprentices though, Russell and Fletcher Tringham. Kids of Nash Tringham. So now they all are busy, and I’m stuck with His Grace, mixing him tisanes.”

“Oh, I remember the old man. Never was any good, but got two kids who are better than he could ever be.” Knox snorted. It seemed like nobody really liked Nash — except for maybe Russell, and even he was critical about his father.

“Could you please show me around?” Ed asked finally, after all their mutual friends were discussed. Knox nodded and led Ed outside.

 

The preparations for the battle started right away; Prince Roy was agitated, and Ed tried in vain to make him sleep more. “We’ll sleep when we’re dead,” Prince Roy kept saying, and Knox advised Ed to give up. He seemed to be convinced that if the prince wanted to die, then stopping him was pointless; but Ed disagreed. Finally they made truce — Ed was allowed to remind him to get rest, but Prince Roy hadn’t to do that if he was busy — and now he was busy all the time. Ed complained to Knox about it — it was a relief to have him around, with his snark and his experience in dealing with Roy.

Ed just returned from another visit to the ‘hospital’ when he first heard the news — Aerugovian army was moving closer. The next morning there would be a battle: the next evening the war could end.

Prince Roy was restless that evening; he had planned something, and judging by how he tried to hide his polished armor from Ed, he was going to fight. Ed was going to forbid it: while the petals only appeared once since their arrival to the camp, and they were still snow-white, the prince was still too weak. He couldn’t make it through his usual training routine; how he was going to make it through a battle, Ed didn’t know.

His examination results weren’t calming either; Ed had expected his health to improve, but it didn’t. As if that mysterious  _ he _ was still close; or perhaps Prince Roy couldn’t just let it go, returning to his love in his thoughts constantly. He didn’t share his thoughts on love with Ed anymore; he seemed to be afraid of what  might happen if he accidentally said too much.

The night before the battle Ed had no time to discuss those matters; after the examination Prince Roy finished a cup of tisane of thyme and went straight to bed, claiming that they have to rise early tomorrow; Ed decided against fighting and followed suit. The next morning, however, was much earlier than Ed had expected: it was still dark outside, but the camp was already awake. Prince Roy let Ed examine him, but it was rushed: he had to meet officers, and so Ed was asked to leave for a while as the last details for the battle were discussed. Ed used that time to go to Knox: he had no wish to spend the day in the camp doing nothing when he could help instead; another pair of hands was always appreciated.

When he returned, Prince Roy was already dressing — or rather, putting his armor on with Jean’s help, and Ed fought the wish to scream. Stubborn bastard!

“You are  _ not _ going into fight,” Ed clenched his fists. “You are staying away from the battle and watching!”

Prince Roy raised his eyebrow. He looked really annoyed — Ed hadn’t seen him like that for a long time. “I  _ am _ going into fight, and I  _ am _ fighting. That is my duty, those are my soldiers, and I’m leading them into the battle that might end the war.”

“You can’t fight. Physically. You’re too weak! You’re sick and coughing and if you die in that battle — or get captured, — do you have any idea what outcome it might have?”

Prince Roy ground his teeth. “You might not understand, Ed,” he said in an unpleasantly calm voice. “This is my last battle. This is my last chance to do something useful. To feel  _ alive _ for several hours. I may die, yes. I kind of hope I do. It’s better than wait for death to come, isn’t it?”

Jean glanced between them, evidently uncomfortable. Ed sympathized with him — it was not a fight he would like to be caught in. But the armor was on; only helmet left. Prince Roy waved at Jean.

“You may go now. Check on the archers.” Jean left — escaped, more like it, and Ed sighed heavily.

“You haven’t passed the point of no return yet, Your Grace. There’s still time for you to confess, to survive and be happy. Your wish to die — it’s just petals speaking, poisoning your mind,” Ed said, feeling very uncertain. He  _ knew _ he was right, the prince’s view of the situation very one-sided, influenced by his condition; but Ed could also see his side of things. Everybody was treating Prince Roy as a dead man, especially his closest circle: Maes Hughes had said once that the prince was always expected to die young, and that long happy life was never an option; when he fell sick, he just decided his time had come, and moved on with it.

Prince Roy winced. “Why do  _ you _ care, Ed? You were forced to join my retinue, ordered to go there against your will. What’s in it for you to keep me alive?” Ed didn’t answer, completely lost; was it how the prince felt? Did he still think Ed was here against his wishes?

“As I had thought,” Prince Roy picked up his helmet, his hands pale against the blued steel. “The sooner I die, the sooner you can go home, to your life. The moment I’m dead, you’re a free man.”

He left in haste — stormed out, in fact. Had the tent had a door, Prince Roy would definitely slam it. Ed cursed under his breath; the prince’s words were harsh, but Ed… Ed could see why he thought that.

Ed should have been better. A better physician, a better friend; he should have done something to find that person and force the prince to confess, and now if he died… then Ed would follow. The hollow pain in his chest was here again, and Ed felt cough starting — a petal cough. So he was indeed in love; had been all this time. And now the man he loved left to die as a hero; Ed sank on Roy’s cot, trying to will these tears away. How could he be so stupid? How could the prince?

Uneasy thoughts buzzed in Ed’s head as he made his way back to Knox’s tent. He needed to get his hands busy now more than ever, to get distracted; or he would scream, or cry, or march to the battlefield and drag the prince back to the camp.

Knox was preparing already; a lot of wounded were expected, and everybody who could apply a bandage was here, ready to fight their own battle.

“Everything good?” Knox asked, glancing at Ed’s face. Ed forced himself to nod and then ruined it with a miserable sniffle.

“He will be fighting,” Ed mumbled, feeling another wave of nausea coming. “He… he can’t, he’s too weak, but he wants to die, and there’s nothing I can do now, but I should have done something before, and now…”

“Hey. It’ll be alright. That guy? He’s a damn good soldier. One of the best I’ve seen. And he’s not out there alone against the whole army. He’s with his friends, who’ll keep him safe.” Knox led him to a chair carefully. “And yes, there’s nothing you can do for him now. So quit whining for a day and help those who need your help.”

Ed nodded, still feeling light-headed; Knox patted him on the shoulder and left him be for some time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter, and I want to thank you all for staying with me!! I hope you enjoy it <33

The battle was raging out; wounded soldiers came in, and Ed hadn’t had a second to think of something not related to his current patients. There were so many wounds to bandage, arrows and bolts to remove; Ed hadn’t noticed how the time flew. He only came awake when Knox tapped his shoulder gently.

“His Grace just returned,” he said. “Go to him, now.” Ed nodded and rushed to Prince Roy’s tent; the sun was setting already. What time was it?.. Was the battle over?

In the tent the prince was being undressed, supported by Vato; he looked fatigued, worn out, but as far as Ed could see, he had no serious wounds. When Prince Roy noticed Ed, he smiled — a weak, crooked smile.

“He had a concussion,” Jean explained, removing the armor. “Didn’t lose consciousness, but he’s still dizzy, I think. No other wounds.”

“We won, Ed,” the prince smiled, trying to reach out to Ed. Vato stopped him and helped the prince sit on the table; Prince Roy swinged forward, but didn’t fall, clutching the edge of the table with both hands. Ed sighed, both annoyed and relieved. The prince was alive — here, in safety. His concussion didn’t look so bad so far — if it was indeed his only injury, then he’s incredibly lucky. Ed had seen what could happen to a human body; he shuddered at the fresh memory.

Ed walked closer, touching the prince’s hand carefully; Prince Roy swinged forward again and this time he embraced Ed, pulling him close. His breath was laboured, and Ed could smell the sweat and the blood; still, the warmth of Roy’s body was maddening. The retinue left; they had much to do now, with all that… whatever they had to do after a battle.

“I’m alive, Ed,” — Prince Roy whispered, laying his head on Ed’s shoulder, — “so you’ll have to endure me a bit longer. And I… I am sorry. About what I said.”

Ed sighed and hugged him back, feeling his strong body; the rustle in Prince Roy’s chest was audible in the silence.

“It’s okay,” Ed said finally. “I am glad you won. The battle or the war?” He patted the prince’s hair awkwardly.

The prince laughed. “Both. There’s no way they recover after that. Do you want to hear how it went?”

“I want to hear how you got concussed,” Ed chuckled. “You just couldn’t avoid injury, could you?”

Prince Roy let Ed go, straightening, and pouted; Ed suppressed a laugh. “I was careful. Well, mostly.” He yawned, and Ed helped him to the floor.

“You need to rest now. Do you want me to brew you a cup of hare’s blood tisane? Or some wine?” Ed had to help him undress; he tried not to stare, but the prince wouldn’t have noticed his stare anyway.

“Oh, a tisane. If it’s not too much trouble. Thank you,” Prince Roy let Ed walk him to bed; Ed had decided to skip the evening examination, seeing how tired the patient was.

Ed brought two cups this time: one for the prince, one for himself. He ought to start drinking those as well; it was always better to start treating the sickness as early as possible.

He knew, however, that it was of little use: when the prince dies, Ed’s fate is decided; he could only hope to keep Prince Roy alive for a little bit longer — and hide his own condition for as long as possible, or there’ll be no end of questions and nagging. Ed understood perfectly now why the prince hated those questions so much; that love was a private feeling, and Ed had no wish to let somebody know of it. No, no, it was his love only; not even Prince Roy himself should know.

 

The concussion wasn’t that bad: Prince Roy felt much better next day, but Ed still advised him to stay in bed. Knox agreed with him — and he was genuinely surprised when the prince followed their advice.

Ed spent most of the day with Prince Roy in his tent, listening to his report about the battle; he had little interest in that, but Roy was a good storyteller, and Ed enjoyed listening to his voice. When the story was done, Ed started talking himself — he shared with the prince what he saw while helping Knox. It was incredibly exhausting — so many patients, so little time; Ed wasn’t used to thinking that fast. Field surgery definitely wasn’t for him; but Ed was relieved to know that he didn’t make any big mistakes yesterday. All his patients were in relatively good health — at least better than they were until Ed intervened.

Around dinnertime Margrave came to visit: Aerugovians wanted to talk peace now, a permanent one — Prince Roy was right, they won’t be able to return Ishval after a blow like this. Prince Claudio of Aerugo wanted to meet — he was willing to visit the camp and even go to the capital to speak with the king; he would like to come now, but Ed forbid it. Prince Roy needed at least a day to recover; it could wait until tomorrow. And besides, it would give Logue Lowe and Scar time to come to the camp: it was one of the Ishvalan conditions ensuring their loyalty, that they’ll be a part of every negotiation around their fate; after considering it carefully Margrave agreed. They had no wish to anger Ishvalans; it could provoke a civil war.

“Prince Claudio is about your age,” Prince Roy said after Margrave left. “I’ve seen him once or twice. A good man, but he lacks… well, a spine. His father orders him to do this — he does, his father orders him to do that — he does. I’m glad he started to question the king’s actions, but he has a long way to go before he’s ready to replace him.”

“A good man, but still you don’t like him. Not your type?” Ed snorted. He knew very little of Aerugovian royal family — mostly rumors, and they were villainized in those.

Prince Roy shrugged. “I very much prefer people who disagree with me for good reasons to those who just blindly follow my orders. I am not always fully informed, I don’t always make the best decision, and if I screw up, I would like to know about it. My father was surrounded by flatterers and liars, and eventually my aunt had to control his every movement, because otherwise he would ruin the kingdom.”

“So you like stubbornness? I’m not surprised.”

“M-m, not quite. I don’t like when people are stubborn despite all the facts being against them, but I appreciate strong opinions, especially in people who are willing to learn more.”

Ed huffed. All the facts about Prince Roy’s sickness were against him; still, he insisted on keeping his secret. It was annoying before, but now Ed’s life depended on him.

“So do you… do you think that person you love is incapable of such changes of heart? If they knew you better, would they still hate you? Isn’t it that stubbornness that you despise?” He asked carefully; Prince Roy frowned.

“I said many times that I will not discuss him with anybody. It’s my own business. It has nothing to do with you.”

It had everything to do with him, Ed thought sadly. Knowing the prince would die was painful; knowing that his love had no idea of his feelings, that they disliked him, was even worse. If they could only see him now — in such pain and still standing strong, — if they could talk to him, know him better, would they still reject his love? If yes, then they didn’t deserve his love at all; not that Ed deserved it, of course.

He understood the old ideals of love better now: that selfless service that was described in endless ballads. Prince Roy seemed to follow that ideal to the letter — hiding his feelings, trying to protect his love from both himself and the court’s curiosity, cherishing his love but not sharing it. It was, in some way, admirable; still, Ed’s practicality protested.

Ed said nothing, and the prince turned away from him, busying himself with a book — the one Ed gave him. He seemed to like it a lot; Ed’s heart clenched.

“Could you please read for me?” He asked, trying not to sound pleading. Prince Roy glanced at him, surprised. “Or translate something, if it’s not too much bother.”

“It’s not,” Prince Roy gave him a little smile and started with a short poem — it spoke about ‘the garden in my chest that blooms for you’, as the poet described it, and Ed was captivated by the image — and by Roy’s voice.

Their idyll was interrupted again shortly before supper; this time it was Maes with his report — how many killed, how many wounded; the numbers were smaller than Prince Roy had expected. As the prince had explained before, Aerugovians put a lot of faith in their newfangled crossbows, but the best crossbows couldn’t compare with Amestrian archers led by Jean. Prince Claudio, being young and inexperienced, listened too closely to his generals; most of them were sticking to their traditional way of attack that Amestrians had studied closely for years, and refused to change tactics. When they realised the battle was lost, most of those generals fled back to Aerugo; the rest of them decided to make peace.

“Reward your men as you see fit,” Prince Roy ordered. “Make a list of those who’ve earned promotions, and make Grand do the same. They did a great job, and they need to know their efforts are appreciated. Prepare a place for tomorrow’s meeting, somewhere safe. I want Prince Claudio to feel outnumbered.”

He was the harsh officer again; yet Ed didn’t feel repulsed. He had learned already that the prince was never cruel; all the rumors about his horrifying flame-bladed sword were wrong about one thing — he never used it in battle, knowing how much harm it would bring; even to his enemies he tried to be merciful. He cared about his people; he did his best to get to know them better.

And to think what Ed himself thought of Roy not a year ago; now he was ashamed of it.

 

Ed wasn’t allowed to stay during the peace negotiations; he only caught a glimpse of Prince Claudio, a beautiful young man surrounded by gloomy soldiers. Staying in the tent was boring, and Ed went to see Knox and his patients — the hospital always needed assistance, and Ed was glad to do something useful.

“Everything okay?” Knox asked quietly, when most of the urgent work was done. Ed shrugged.

“Yes? I think so. The war is done, His Grace is alive. Nothing to worry about.” He didn’t sound convincing enough, apparently, and Knox tilted his head. “I am alright, honestly. Just a little… confused, maybe. I am worried about His Grace. He doesn’t seem to get better, even though we are away from court, and I have to report to His Majesty when we return…” He stammered, and Knox sighed.

“So you’ll report to him truthfully and blame everything on Roy. His Majesty knows his brother. He’s stubborn, and people like him die very young. It’s a miracle he made it till thirty. And as of his love… don’t think of it. He’ll come around. Or he won’t, and it’ll be his own damn fault.”

“I don’t want him to die. But I can’t save him, either,” Ed said helplessly. “But I can’t… can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Then get working,” Knox shrugged. “It should help.”

So Ed did — and the next day, and the day after that. He was getting better at applying bandages; a couple of times he helped with the amputations. Still, Ed was glad to return back to the Central City: he missed the comfort of living in a proper building instead of a tent.

Luckily, this time they didn’t stop at Elrics’ estate; Prince Roy was dissatisfied with their treatment of Ed, and he wanted to do something about it; Ed gave up trying to convince him to let it go.

Their return home was nothing but victorious: whole towns went out to meet them: they had heard already that the Ishvalan war was done, and they all wanted to thank Prince Roy for it — they didn’t have to send their sons to die anymore. The prince was flattered and embarrassed by such attention — in his eyes he only did his duty, out of his own selfish wish to be a better man; but he ended up doing a great service for his people.

Ed had noticed it a long time ago — people loved Prince Roy much more than the court did, mostly because they judged him on his actions and not his alleged lack of manners. And his actions spoke volumes; but Ed only learned of those volumes from the retinue and not from the prince himself.

The Central City wasn’t an exception — citizens greeted Prince Roy at the city gates, and their relatively small party was almost carried to the palace. Despite the late hour, the king demanded an immediate report, both on the battle and on Prince Roy’s condition; Ed shivered.

“I ordered him not to report to you about the petals,” Prince Roy lied to his brother’s face not an hour later. “You wouldn’t let me go. You wouldn’t let me fight. He tried to stop me, but alas. Still, we won, and I wasn’t injured.”

Ed opened his mouth to protest, but decided against it; Prince Roy’s concussion proved itself to be insignificant, with no long-lasting consequences. Coming clean about it was probably not the best idea Ed ever had.

“You are insufferable,” King Zolf muttered. “Fine. I want Logue Lowe here for the final peace negotiations, along with you and Grand. You both know the situation there better than I do, so I’ll need your advice. Now go. You need a bath. All of you do, in fact.” He wrinkled his nose.

The prince laughed. “We were in a desert, Jay. Well, a steppe, but still. You would know if you had visited it at least once.”

“I will, after we sign the peace treaty. I owe it to them to deliver it personally,” King Zolf nodded. “Go! You’ll be all needed tomorrow.”

 

Al met Ed at his room; he had a hot bath prepared already, knowing that Ed would be tired, and Ed almost teared up. He then thought better about it, because Al wrinkled his nose just as the king did, and told Ed that he stinks; for that he got Ed’s left shoe thrown in his direction.

“Now tell me everything,” Al asked, when Ed had settled in the bath. “How was Ishval? How was the battle? How was His Grace?”

Ed sank for a moment, letting the water cover his face, and then came up to the air again. “Ishval is beautiful. Colorful. On our way back Scar sent a couple of his assistants to show me around Dar Rheos, and it was… oh, so awesome. Their marketplace is huge, and the best part, there are so many Xerxesians in Ishval. All in traditional attire, so I felt… a bit strange wearing Amestrian clothes around them. But they were friendly, and I got several books from there. And the army has a lot of Xerxesian soldiers as well… I met some of them when I was helping Knox at the hospital.”

“ _ The _ Knox? The surgeon father had mentioned? What is he like?”

“Grumpy. But he likes Prince Roy, and it’s mutual. He said… m-m, how did he put it… He heard the name of Prince Roy’s love. But he claims he forgot it, and I don’t believe him at all. And the prince… well, he only had petals thrice so far, but I think he’s getting worse.”

Al jumped in his place. “Wait, he had petals? Already? When? In Ishval?”

“Didn’t I tell you?.. No, that was after his birthday. I went outside and saw him coughing. They’re still white, but… we’re running out of time, and I don’t like it. He’s still claiming he won’t confess. He…” Ed stopped, searching for a better way to put it. “Well, we had argued before the battle. I tried to stop him. And he… well, he seems to think that I can’t wait till he dies and I can go back to being Van Hohenheim’s assistant. I  _ don’t _ , I…” He stumbled again and grabbed a piece of soap, rubbing it furiously. “I am coughing, Al. For him. And he’s dying. And I can’t help. And  _ he _ thinks I want him dead. What am I supposed to do?”

“I  _ told _ you so!” Al punched the bed he was sitting on. “You said, he’s not getting better? You were away from court for… how long… almost three weeks, right?” Ed nodded, and Al hummed. “Honestly, I keep going back to that thought. If his sickness develops so fast, and he’s not getting better away from court, then his love must be close to him. And that love went with him to Ishval. And — wait, I know you disagree, but just you wait, — I think it’s you. I mean, you fit the description. Didn’t like him way back, now you’re always close to him, you are literally never apart. I think… I might have a way to prove it to you, but you won’t like it.”

Ed splashed water at Al, and Al giggled. “What way? I mean, how will it help prove something?”

“Our grandparents wrote to Trisha and to Van Hohenheim, separately. They kind of want to reconcile. Say they missed a lot in our lives, and they want us all to be a family again, and all that. So they invite us all to Risembool for several weeks, so we could… settle our disagreement. I personally think there’s nothing to settle, but mother and father still want to go. So say, if you agree, and if the prince lets you go for some time, we could go to Risembool for a couple of weeks. It’s not too long, but should be enough. And when we return, well… If the prince’s worse, then I’ll admit I was wrong about his love and apologise for meddling. And if he’s better — not coughing petals, generally coughing less, — then I’ll drag you to his chambers and make you confess, because you both are blind bull-headed bastards.”

Ed chuckled. Al’s proposal made sense. “I saw my grandparents not a full month ago, and they weren’t so eager to make peace. But I think that’s what His Grace’s authority does to people. Fine. I’ll ask His Grace’s permission to leave — but not today and not tomorrow, give me some time, — and we’ll go. Russell can handle the examinations, and I can ask Jean or Heymans to keep an eye out for his coughing fits.” He went underwater again, ignoring what Al had said next. There was a lot to think about. For example… Ed had believed the prince when he said his love hated him, he sounded so honest, but what if he was lying back then? With a sole purpose to confuse Ed. He didn’t seem to mention that little detail to anyone — or was it a sudden fit of full honesty which he’d regretted later?

 

Leaving for Risembool right away was impossible: the court celebrated the battle, and Prince Roy was yet again the center of attention; even the young Bradleys came to congratulate him in person. They seemed to be much less insolent now; Ed suspected it had a direct relation to Neville Bradley’s attempts to get a position at court. He had offered himself to the king as a possible Gentleman of the Privy Chamber; King Zolf offered him instead a nasty, but very respected position of the Groom of Stool. Bradley declined the offer, though; he was under an impression it was made specifically to make fun of him, despite the fact that a Groom of Stool was needed, that position being vacant for twenty-something years. As Prince Roy had told Ed in secret, King Zolf didn’t really expect Neville Bradley to agree; he did, in fact, plan to make fun of him — but not as openly as Bradley’d thought.

The bustle calmed down in another three weeks; in that time Prince Roy had had three more petal coughs. The shade of the petals hadn’t darkened yet, but it was expected to gain more pink in the next several weeks: exactly when Ed had planned to be in Risembool.

The thought of separating was painful; still, it had to be done. If Al was right, then leaving court for a while would do them both good; if he was wrong… well, what could Ed do anyway? Prince Roy refused to confess, and most of his friends got tired of arguing with him; the best they could do now was to stop bothering him and wait till he comes to see reason.

Prince Roy took the news of Ed’s departure easily; he only asked if Ed is indeed sure that reconciling with his grandparents is a good idea. Ed wasn’t sure at all; but he needed to get away from court for some time, and it was just as good reason as any. He was coughing — to save himself Ed needed to get away from the prince, and to do it quick — before Prince Roy learned he was sick.

That plan had nearly failed though; for all Ed’s attempts to hide his condition it took seeing the prince flirt with Lady Catherine just once. Ed knew that she wasn’t the one Prince Roy loved, and he knew she was perfectly happy with Winry; still, just a thought of losing Roy to another made him collapse in a coughing fit with all the retinue to see.

“I am alright,” Ed muttered after he was able to catch his breath. “Perfectly fine.”

Jean raised an eyebrow. “Was it… what I think it was?” Ed winced, but nodded nonetheless. Jean whistled. “Who is… who’s the lucky lady?”

“There’s no lady, and nobody’s lucky,” Ed mumbled, looking away. “I am not… not really a ladies’ man.”

“Yeah, I guessed that,” Jean smirked. “Just didn’t want to assume. Who’s the lucky guy then? Or are you taking the path of pride and denial?”

Kain elbowed him rather painfully and then smiled at Ed, openly and friendly. “Ed can decide for himself which path to take. Right, Ed? Now let’s go. And keep your mouths shut, everybody. We don’t need to deal with another wave of rumors now.”

“Thank you,” Ed said sincerely, and that was it — thankfully, nobody mentioned it anymore.

So getting permission from the prince was easy — he didn’t know that incident ever happened; and the difficult part, the queen’s permission, was handled by Al. She seemed to like him; but most people did. While they all were away, the work of the royal physician was divided between Russell and doctor Markoh, another acquaintance of Van Hohenheim’s. Prince Roy’s condition ought to be monitored by Russell, Fletcher and Jean; they all were to keep their own separate notes, so Ed could compare them after his return. With all those matters settled, they could leave — and most of their trip was spent on calming Van Hohenheim down. For a man of his standing he was incredibly anxious about meeting his in-laws again; they didn’t part on good terms, and while now Van Hohenheim led a life of privileges, still the memories of his youth were haunting him. He had confessed to Ed once that he did all he could so his children could have a better life, a happier childhood; Ed assured him that he had reached his goal. His own childhood was incredibly privileged — a petal child, loved by both his parents, who never knew poverty or serious illness; his high birth almost guaranteed him a fitting position at court, and his father’s reputation would help Ed if he were to seek a private practice; all those little things that Van Hohenheim hadn’t had at his age.

Risembool was just as dull as always, though. Just as dull as Van Hohenheim and Trisha remembered it to be — they rode through the town, discussing it quietly, and both agreed that it hadn’t changed an iota. But Elrics were a bit nicer this time — they seemed to have learned their lesson, treating Ed and Trisha with respect befitting their positions; they also avoided openly disrespecting Van Hohenheim, and it was a little bit calming.

The great talk happened only after they’ve spent several days there — almost a week after their departure from Central City. Lord Elric apologised to his daughter and his son-in-law; he admitted being prejudiced and voiced his wish to change to the better. Ed didn’t believe him, of course, but nobody asked him to; the great speech was intended for Trisha and Van Hohenheim, and they accepted it. After that, the tension went away — but Ed still couldn’t fully relax.

“I am worried sick, Al,” he said, when they were walking in the badly kept garden. “What if he collapses again, and I’m not there? My duty is to help him, and I…”

“He’s surrounded by his friends, who know perfectly how to help him. And honestly? I think he should be much better now.”

Ed winced. “I still don’t like your theory. If it’s true, then it’s my appointment that’s been killing him. That means,  _ I _ was killing him without even knowing. And what if it’s too late? What should I do, Al?”

Al sighed. “What are you going to do if it’s somebody else? He should make it until summer, but I still want to know what you’re planning.”

Ed thought of it. “I think… I should be with him. Till he… to see that he departs without pain. I don’t want him to suffer, I don’t care really who he’s in love with, I just… if he dies, I want him to die quietly. And then I’ll go. Settle my business and… it’s not like I have a lot of choice here, you know? I can’t fall out of love, and if he dies then he won’t love me back from the grave. So I can wait until petals kill me, or I can just do it faster and more efficient.”

“I really don’t like how you see things, you know?” Al sighed again. “I sincerely hope it’s you he’s coughing for. But we can’t check now, and we need more time for our theory to be proved or disproved. So all we can do for now is to rot in this place for a while. No wonder mother was so glad to escape, it’s terribly dull. Nothing to do, nobody to see.”

Ed snorted. “Agreed. Let’s go back, I think it’s time for supper.”

 

The reconciliation led to another set of problems, of course; Elrics were both quite old, and they were deciding on their wills. That was, as Ed suspected, the main reason why they wanted to make peace in the first place; they felt their time was approaching. It was discussed who should inherit the Elrics’ estate; originally they wanted to give it to Ed as the eldest son, but he refused. Ed already had a title of his own: while insignificant, it brought him enough income to be free; Al had nothing in his name except for the shirt on his back. So naturally, he should be the one to receive Elrics’ estate; Ed had neither the wish nor the need to have it.

Other matters required discussions of their marriages — they both had at least eight years before they would be of the age when most men got married, but such matters ought to be discussed in advance; both Ed and Al, however, protested. Al had no wish to marry at all, and Ed… well, Ed decided to come clean about his cough. They should be prepared for all outcomes; Ed owed his family at least some honesty.

“Do you think it’s mutual?” Van Hohenheim asked carefully. Ed shrugged.

“Al is convinced it is mutual. I… I don’t know. We shall see when we return, if his theory works out, then I’ll confess. If it doesn’t, well, I should have several years to settle my business.”

“His Highness thought so too,” Trisha sighed. “But I think you know better. I just hope… I hope it’s mutual, because I… I can’t even think of losing you, Ed. You’re so young, there’s still time… I don’t know. It’s hard to put into words.”

Ed touched her hand. He really didn’t want to die; and he hated making his mother cry, but it would be much better for them to learn it now. He kissed her forehead gently and left the room; Ed needed some time alone.

Their departure happened as scheduled, in about two weeks after their arrival; that would make it three weeks since Ed last saw Prince Roy, and he missed him dearly. To see him again, to get to see his smile again; Ed couldn’t wait. It took all his willpower not to rush his horse on their way back: Ed was burning with his desire to tell Prince Roy how he felt. He was almost ready to confess even knowing it wasn’t mutual; he just wanted Prince Roy to know he was loved.

An incredible feeling; the more painful was their return to the capital. Ed got off his horse and ran to Prince Roy’s chambers — only to learn that he was gone, away from court with Maes Hughes, holed up somewhere. It was Kain who told Ed that; it was Kain who poured him some wine, seeing Ed’s distress.

“He never mentioned he wanted to leave court now,” Ed said, sipping his wine. “I would have known. Did he explain, or?..”

“It was spontaneous. One day he’s talking about riding out to meet you as you return, and then the next day he’s deciding he wants to leave. And he won’t tell us where he went either! Only Maes knew, and Jean, but he is forbidden to talk about it.”

Ed winced. “I am so tired of the secrets. Why? He doesn’t want us to follow him or what?”

Kain was silent for several moments. “Yes, I think so. But, um, we explained Maes how to monitor his condition. And we kept notes! Do you want to see?” Ed nodded, and Kain left — only to return with several pieces of paper. “We noted every time he had a fit, and how strong it was, and then how he felt.”

“Were the petals pinker now?” Ed put his goblet aside.

Kain blinked. “He… he had no petal coughs. We, um, we kept watch at night, and he didn’t cough petals at all. What, is it bad?”

Ed exhaled slowly and then read their notes again. Coughs were further apart than Ed had been used to, and no petals at all for three whole weeks — and the records stated the prince reported his condition as ‘fine’. The last one wasn’t much of a help, of course, he was always ‘fine’ or ‘okay’ or ‘I can handle it’, but overall… Ed’s breath hitched.

“Ed? You alright?” Kain touched his shoulder, and Ed nodded slowly. Al’s theory seemed to be right; still, Ed had trouble believing it. It just… couldn’t be. That was too easy.

“You don’t seem to be alright to me,” Kain said again, worry in his voice, and Ed sighed.

“You said, Jean knows where he is?” He asked.

“He’s forbidden to talk about it. He won’t even tell me, and he refused to tell the king. And, I mean, it’s  _ the king _ . He almost decided it was treason, but then the queen talked him out of it. And, well, Jean likes you, but he’s loyal to His Grace, and he won’t disobey an order.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Ed stood up and gathered their notes. “I am sure… well, almost sure, he’ll see the reason.”

 

He went to Al first, though; Al was unpacking their chests.

“What happened? Did you?..” Al stood up, and Ed shoved the notes in his face.

“Look at these and tell me if you see what I saw.”

Al shrugged and looked through the notes. “It looks like he was feeling fine. That’s actually written here.”

“He says he’s fine all the time, no matter how much pain he’s in. That’s not what I meant. Look when he coughs, and what color the petals have.”

Al flipped through the notes again. “No mentions of petals. And the cough pattern… So I was right! I  _ told you so _ back when you’d just returned from Briggs, and you didn’t believe me!”

Ed sighed. “I know, I know. I am an idiot. And he’s an idiot.”

“So did you confess, or do I need to drag you to his rooms?” Al returned the notes to Ed.

“I can’t. He’s… he’s gone. Left the court with Maes Hughes as his only companion. Nobody knows where he went. Even his retinue — I talked to Kain, and he has no idea. He said, only Jean knows, and he refused to tell that to the king, even on charge of treason.”

Ed flopped on the bed, closing his eyes. He felt light-headed, dizzy. “I need to… I don’t know. To show these to Jean and explain what they mean? To tell him how  _ I _ feel, and why I need to confess to Roy? But what if…” He stopped himself. No, it was too scary a thought. Ed didn’t want to even think of it — but it might be possible, and… “He wants to die,” Ed said after some silence. “What if he left just to… to do it quietly? With his best friend to take care of everything.” Ed felt tears coming and sniffled, trying to even out his breath.

“Don’t. He is… he could plan it, but Maes Hughes is not an idiot, and he would not agree to that. You just need to learn where His Grace might be, and then go there and tell him. For his sake and for yours.” Al sat next to Ed, patting his hair lightly. “It might not be easy, but I think these notes can help Jean see your side. But honestly? It’ll wait until tomorrow. It’s late, and you barely got any sleep since we left Risembool, and you need to rest now.”

Ed sniffled again; he hated to say that, but Al was right. They’ll talk in the morning; one night could barely change anything now.

 

The exhaustion won over the anxiety, and Ed had had a full night of uninterrupted sleep; but despite that he woke up more miserable than ever. Why would Prince Roy leave so suddenly? There was no unrest in Ishval, nothing happened in Briggs either; the Cretan border also was quiet. Why would he leave his retinue behind? Kain yesterday seemed to be wounded by that; they all were used to being close to Prince Roy at all times, following him everywhere. And even his brother didn’t know — Ed knew, of course, that the prince and the king weren’t as close as he and Al were, but still keeping something so important from his family…

And yet the queen didn’t seem to worry. When Ed had met her in the morning, she was as calm as ever, greeting him with a kind smile. He’d have to ask her permission if he were to leave again, and Ed had no wish to share his feelings with her. She had said before she ‘had her guesses’ — and Ed doubted he was on her list.

Jean was elusive that day — it was not until dinner when Ed finally saw him — at their table, along with the rest of Prince Roy’s retinue. They looked lost without him — sheep without their shepherd; the mood at the table during dinner was quite uncomfortable.

“I need to talk to you,” Ed said after dinner, when Jean was about to leave, and Jean sighed.

“To talk about what?” he asked, tired.

“His Grace, of course. I know you have orders, but I…” He didn’t get to finish — Jean grabbed his hand and led him to the prince’s privy chamber. It was empty — the rest of the retinue went to the training grounds with the king’s men.

“I have something for you,” Jean muttered, rummaging through a cabinet. “I was ordered to give it to you after he dies, but he’s a stubborn asshole, and I trust you, so!” He fished out an envelope and gave it to Ed. “Here! He wrote a bunch of letters for all of us, for me to give you all when he’s dead. But I already gave Kain his, and I’ve been sitting on Heymans’ and Vato’s, but I think I should give them their letters too. It’s just… His departure… It was so unfair, you know? He didn’t even warn us, just called me in in the middle of the night and then left before the rest of us woke up.”

The envelope had nothing on it except ‘Ed’ written on the top in Prince Roy’s handwriting; Ed sat on the couch and opened it slowly. His hands were shaking a little — Ed was afraid of what he might find inside. It was a letter to read after Prince Roy would be gone; it obviously didn’t require any answer.

“My dearest Ed, — the letter read, — I must beg your pardon for leaving like this, without saying proper goodbyes. I have my reasons for this, however. I kindle the hope that you won’t be too angry about it or about what I am going to say next; albeit I assume that hope is futile.

“I have learned recently you too have fallen victim to the petal disease; that thought saddens me, Ed, and I would want you not to follow my example. I have made my choice, and I am aware of the consequences; but I doubt your situation is in any way like mine. Please, for your own sake — confess your love; live, love and be loved. I am not aware of the identity of your beloved; but I am sure they love you. How could they not?

“Not to leave any unfinished business between us — I remember you asking for a translation of that poem you seemed to like. Here it is, without any rhyme to it, but rhyme was never that important in Xingese poetry:

_ “There's a garden in my chest that blooms for you; I would love one day to share with you its beauty, but I would hate to share with you my pain. _

“These are beautiful words, but I advise you against following them — you have a bright future ahead of you, and I would hate to know you've lost it to your pride.

“As to my love, I must leave him behind. I have no wish for him to carry the guilt of knowing, and so I have no intention of sharing his name even now. I do not blame him for my fate — I am deeply grateful for all pleasure his company had brought me over the time we knew each other. I hope he finds his happiness as well; I would hate to see him unhappy.

“I must now bid farewell; this letter shall reach you when I’m gone already. My thought might be blurry; I’m not myself lately, I apologise for that. I don’t know how to finish the letter — how does one finish letters like this one; I want to thank you again for all your great service, for your help. I want to apologise for everything I did wrong; I’ve done an awful lot of things wrong in my life, but it’s soon to end.

“Goodbye, Ed. Thank you. Be happy.”

 

Ed exhaled shakily, clutching the letter, and Jean sat down next to him.

“Are you alright?”He asked, and Ed closed his eyes for a moment, wiping tears.

“I want to run to him and smash his face, honestly. What a…” Ed stopped, searching for a word rude enough for the context. “He asks me to confess to my love. Says, he wants me to be happy. Argh!”

Jean opened his mouth, and Ed gave him the letter.

“Isn’t he… ugh, the worst? Don’t answer, it was rhetorical. I must… I need to know where he is, Jean, so I could…”

“Smash his face? Probably not the best idea. And I can’t really tell you where he is, I was forbidden to.”

Ed shook his head. “He asks me to confess, doesn’t he? He says he wants me to be happy. So that’s what I’m going to do. I am going to go to him and tell him I love him, because dammit, I  _ do _ , and I  _ hate it _ , and I tried to stop, but I am coughing for him! And when he dies because he’s a stubborn bastard who wants to die, I’ll die too. Happy! Is he fucking kidding?”

“Wait, what? You’re… for him? His Grace? Prince Roy? Since… since when?” Jean almost dropped the letter, and Ed huffed.

“Since we went to Briggs, I assume. Or maybe some time later. I used to hate him, but then I was appointed to him so I got to know him better, and, well… It kind of happened? I didn’t plan for it to happen. And then the next thing I know I’m coughing and he’s going to die. I was going to confess to him yesterday, but Kain told me he left, and I… well.”

Jean looked at him, speechless. “You’ve got to be kidding me. And you’re what, you want to tell him about it? So he… oh, crap.”

Ed sighed. “I don’t know, Jean. Al believes he’s in love with me. I think Al’s delirious, because honestly? He didn’t even know my name before I was appointed to him, and that he got better while I was away… it  _ might _ be, but people in love don’t just write letters like this. They  _ don’t _ . So I would go to him and then… he wants to die, fine. I’ll be at his side, because he still needs a doctor around, and if he decides to take an early leave, then… well, you need somebody to assist you with that, usually.”

Jean coughed. “To be honest, I think you should tell him. If it’s you, then bam, problem solved for both of you. If it’s not, well, then he’ll have a very awkward time when he knows he’s killing  _ you too _ by being stubborn, and it just might push him to try to confess. You see, right now he thinks nobody’s life depends on him. We will grieve for him, of course, but we won’t die just because he’s dead. But you — you  _ will _ die, quite literally. And if that’s not enough for him…”

“Then what?”

“Then you have my official permission to smash his face. He’s been asking for it ever since we learned he’s coughing. So, now to where to go… He didn’t say it outright, he said the queen must know. And obviously Maes knows. But it’s quite far, I think, they’ve planned for a several days’ journey.”

Ed hummed. “Did they pack winter clothes?”

“Well… yes, but not what he takes to Briggs. So it must be somewhere cold and far away. North-East or North-West, I’d say.”

“The queen must know, you said…” Ed mused. “Might it be Pendleton? Mustang Hall. It would be an obvious choice, though.”

“Yeah, too easy. But still worth a shot. How about you ask Her Majesty? You still need her permission to leave, and she’ll definitely ask you what happened.”

Ed nodded. “I’ll ask her tomorrow, okay? Don’t want to risk it now, I’m… I don’t really want to cry in front of Her Majesty.”

 

The next day was slightly better; at least Ed had a vague idea what to do now.

The queen was in her chambers — embroidering again, this time a classic Xingese lotus in crimson hue.

“Your Majesty, I must beg for your permission to leave the court,” Ed bowed to her, and Queen Riza lifted her head.

“You’ve just arrived. Did something happen?” She asked curiously, putting her work aside. “Leave us,” she added, and her ladies obeyed. “Tell me, Sir Edward, why do you need to leave?”

Ed was silent for too long — she tapped on her stitching hoop impatiently. “I… I am coughing, Your Majesty. And I need to confess.”

“Coughing? Hm-m. For whom?”

“I- I would prefer not to share it, with your permission.”

Queen Riza chuckled. “Prince Roy was allowed to be stubborn, Sir Edward, because he’s incurable in that way. He was demoted to a soldier in his first week in Briggs because of his stubbornness, and even when he got promoted, he soon went back to being a soldier again. And he — he is a prince. You, Sir Edward, are not. Who is it? I demand an answer.”

Ed swallowed. “It’s His Grace. I am going to… to visit him, and I want to tell him how I feel, and then stay at his side until he…” He stumbled. “I have to be there, Your Majesty.”

“And then what are you going to do?” She tilted her head, playing with her necklace. “He’s dying, and you’re coughing.”

“I will follow him. That’s all I can do. I don’t know whom he loves, or I would drag them to him.”

“You don’t know, huh? Not even a guess?”

Ed exhaled. “Al has a theory, and it might be true, but I’m… not quite sure. He thinks it could be me, and if it is so, then I’m a lucky man… but in that case I definitely should be there.”

Queen Riza nodded slowly. “I see why he might think that. Do you know where to go?”

“I assumed Mustang Hall in Pendleton. Was I right?” Ed smiled unsurely, and she nodded again and started explaining how to get there; it would take at least four days, and Ed shivered. He had to get there on time.

With permission granted Ed went to pack; only the necessities: a change of clothes, a stash of medicines, and the fur gown he was given when they went to Briggs. It was the first gift from Roy Ed had ever received, and now looking back Ed could see how his own attitude towards the prince changed. Back then he was surprised to see the gown being made in his preferred colors and not in traditional Amestrian blue, and the thought put into this gift was unexpected; but now Ed knew that such thoughtfulness was quite usual for Prince Roy. He took good care of his men; Ed wanted to return his kindness.

The soft fur reminded Ed of their long walks on the castle walls; perhaps it was indeed back then when Ed started falling for him. Ed sighed and went back to packing; he wanted to take his notes and the letter to Mustang Hall with him, to confront Prince Roy about it.

On his way out he only stopped at Al’s room to say goodbye; Al asked him to write about what would happen, and Ed gave him a promise. He doubted he’d get an opportunity to write, with either a dying patient or a recovering lover, but he still owed a report to the queen.

 

Ed reached West City in three days; usually it took three and a half, but he was changing horses at every place where he stayed overnight to avoid exhausting them. Another day — and he would be at Pendleton; Ed spent the evening trying to make a draft of his confession. Where should he start? Should he mention Al’s guesses or was it better to let Roy confess in his own time? Was it even worth telling Roy if there was no actual proof he was in love with Ed? Wouldn’t it just make Roy feel guilty? Jean had said, of course, that this guilt could inspire him to confess; but Ed would hate to hurt him even to save himself.

When Ed tried to draft an answer to Roy’s letter, it was even worse than a verbal confession; but then again, Ed had a feeling he’d just yell at Roy or cry in front of him while trying to explain his love in spoken words. Not that Roy didn’t deserve to be yelled at; it was just that Ed didn’t want his emotions to get in the way.

How would one say things like this? Ed couldn’t possibly just come to him and kiss Roy — he would love to, but… No, probably not the wisest idea. Maybe he should wait with confession and ask Maes for advice? Too many options, and all seemed to be terrible ideas; with those uneasy thoughts still buzzing in his head Ed reached Mustang Hall in the next day — evening twilight turning into darkness of the night. The house was inhabited — Ed could see light in the windows.

A servant boy met him and asked quite impolitely what good sir was doing here; good sir, however, had an answer prepared. He was carrying a letter from the queen — almost true, it was a spoken message that Ed was ordered to deliver. That answer turned out to be quite satisfying, and Ed was led inside, to the hall.

Both the prince and Maes Hughes were there, supping; Ed froze on the threshold. Prince Roy looked much healthier than Ed had remembered, much happier; Ed suddenly wanted to leave. His presence was almost sure to make things worse; but Ed came here to try and fix them.

“Your Grace, Your Lordship,” Ed bowed, and Prince Roy stood up slowly.

“Ed? What are you doing here?” He was surprised; Ed’s arrival was obviously the last thing he expected.

“I bring a message from Her Majesty,” Ed bowed again. He wanted to rush to Roy, embrace him, tell him everything, — but he couldn’t force himself to step closer, to say something not so official; Ed barely suppressed the cough coming.

“Please, sit. Tell us, how was Risembool? How is the capital now?”

“I barely spent two days in the capital, Your Grace. And Risembool was dull, but at least we made up with the Elrics. Al is to inherit their estate. That was their main concern, due to their age.”

Prince Roy scoffed. “I still don’t like them. But I’ve said that already. If Al wants, the estate can be his very soon, it’ll only take one letter.”

“He doesn’t care about the estate. We both are glad Elrics made up with our parents, and that’s more than enough. But I want to hear about you, Your Grace. How are you feeling?”

Prince Roy winced. “I am well. I believe, you received the notes made before my departure?”

“Yes. There is… there’s a pattern in them. I would like to talk about it.”

“Not now. You had a long journey, you need rest. Whatever it is, it can wait till morning.”

Ed nodded. He was exhausted beyond belief. “Do you mind if I examine you before that?” he asked though, curious about how well Roy’s ‘well’ was. Prince Roy smirked.

“If you wish so. Let’s go, we can do it while a room is prepared for you.”

 

The examination was much harder than all the previous ones; Ed had forgotten what it was like to see Prince Roy shirtless, in all his glory. Ed tried to keep touching to minimum, but he saw how tense the prince became every time Ed brushed his skin with his fingers; it was both disheartening and inspiring.

“It’s better than it was before I went away,” Ed put the ear trumpet back on the table. “Almost as good as it was several months ago.”

“So if we keep it that way… how much is your estimate?”

“Two to three years. Before I left I was almost sure you wouldn’t make it till summer.”

Roy hummed and reached for his shirt; Ed gave it to him, and their fingers touched lightly. Prince Roy jerked away, as if burned, and Ed bit his cheek. He was not welcome here — nobody said that outright, but the prince was both happy and unhappy to see him.

“Good night, Your Grace,” Ed bowed. His room was ready — three doors away, with the old floors creaking under his foot. He had to unpack, but instead of it Ed undressed and took out Roy’s letter to reread it again; he fell asleep soon enough after that, face wet with unbidden tears.

The morning was quiet: Prince Roy refused examination politely, and Ed decided not to insist — it was hard to insist on anything under Maes’ stare.

“We need to talk,” Ed said again after they had finished breakfast, and Prince Roy glanced at him.

“Do speak. What does Riza have to say? Is everything in order?”

“I would prefer to talk alone, Your Grace, if Lord Wellesley doesn’t mind. It’s… of a private matter, that I… don’t find appropriate to share.”

In usual words it meant ‘I’m too embarrassed to let Hughes hear my confession and even more embarrassed to be rejected in his presence’; however, the prince nodded.

“Let’s go to the library,” he stood up, and Ed quickly followed him to another room. “Sit,” Roy gestured to one of the two identical chairs separated by a set chess board. Ed chose the white side — Prince Roy usually played black.

“What did she say?” Prince Roy asked again, fiddling with his queen, and Ed swallowed.

“Well, she… she sent her request for you to listen to me, and she ordered me to tell you all that I’d said to her, and…” He was blushing, blood heating his cheeks, so Ed stared onto the chessboard. “There’s really no easy way to say it, Your Grace. I don’t know where to begin.”

“At the beginning, I assume.” Ed could feel his stare; he took a piece from the board too.

“I’ll try to. When I returned, I went to see you, but Kain told me that you left. So I asked Jean, and he… he gave me your letter.” Ed lifted his head, but the prince was suddenly avoiding meeting his eyes, an ebony queen twisting in his fingers. “So I… you hope I won’t be angry, but I was, and I still am, because you left like that, and it’s…” He winced at his own words. “It all comes out wrong, no matter what I say and how I say it. You ask me to confess my love in that letter. So I am here. To confess. I am coughing for you, Your Grace, and I… I want to ask you, will you please let me stay? Here, by your side. So I could take care of you. If you don’t want me here, I will go somewhere else, but please, could you consider it?”

The ebony queen fell on the ground; Ed’s heart dropped. Prince Roy was silent, unmoving; Ed couldn’t read his face, and he felt all his hopes shattering.

“Was that what you’ve said to Riza?” Prince Roy asked finally, his voice pained.

Ed nodded. “I asked her permission to leave the court, and she asked me why. So I told her. I couldn’t stay in Central, it was… reliving every moment, and without you…”

Prince Roy tapped on the table. “Why?”

Ed blinked. “Why… what? I don’t…”

The prince stood up abruptly, almost bringing the chess table down. “Why are you saying this, Ed? You are not really… It just can’t be!”

This time Ed couldn’t fight it, a fit of violent coughing racking his entire body; it hurt like hell, and Ed was still clutching his chest after it was over, trying to even out his breath. The prince was at his side suddenly, kneeling next to the chair; Ed swallowed and closed his eyes.

“It can be and it is,” he said, tired. “I fell in love with you. I used to dislike you, but then I knew better, I got to learn more about you, and I… what could I do? You don’t love me, I accept that. But I am not lying, I am not pretending, I am here, and I want to stay by your side, to help you for as long as I can. If you don’t want it, just tell me to get away, and I will, but I don’t want to.”

Prince Roy stroked his arm lightly, and Ed exhaled shakily. “I am an idiot,” Roy whispered, still on the floor. “Are you… are you in pain?”

Ed scoffed. “Of course I am. You’ve been there, you must remember. I assume, petals are worse?”

Roy smiled sadly and then rose — and lifted Ed from the chair, making him stand up. He looked pretty flushed too, that unhealthy blush staining his cheeks; Ed didn’t get to finish the thought. Prince Roy kissed him on the lips — softly, uncertainly; Ed stepped back, taken by surprise, and Roy caught his hand, caressing his fingers. It was not a dream — it was better than a dream; Ed kissed him back.

 

They had a serious talk, of course; although it was interrupted too often, Ed clinging to Roy, seeking his warmth.

He had shared Al’s theory; Roy had confessed his feelings. He fell for Ed’s opinions and rudeness, and then his appointment just made everything worse; but it also made everything better. Were Ed not so close to Roy, always at his side for almost an year, then he’d still think him shallow and vain; he wouldn’t have fallen in love with him, that was for sure.

“Riza had it figured out long ago. She knows me, better than many, and I think when you told her about your sickness… But it never crossed my mind that you might be coughing for me,” Roy kissed Ed’s fingers gently, and Ed went crimson. He was unused to such caress; but physical affection was good for their recovery, so he didn’t protest. And it was nice — to know he’s loved; his parents weren’t lying when they described that bliss.

“I used to dislike you. But then I learned more. And then I hated the person you loved, because how could they hate you?..”

Roy snorted. “Easily. I am not at my best when at court, and you had no reason to dig deeper.” He ruffled Ed’s hair, and Ed wriggled away. “Hey, I’ll plait it for you!”

“Fine,” Ed muttered, moving back to him. “Al suspected I might fall for you months ago. Even before I actually did. He knows me better than I know myself. Same goes for you and Her Majesty, I assume.” He paused. “Should I call you ‘Your Grace’ when we’re alone?”

“Don’t you dare,” Roy laughed, undoing Ed’s braid slowly. “There are arrangements to be made. We should tell Maes, and we should tell Jay and Riza, and Al too, and we’ll return to the capital at some point… but for now I want just to stay here with you. We can even send Maes away and have the house to ourselves.”

Ed touched his cheek carefully — it was positively burning. “We should stay here for some time. To see how you feel, how fast your recovery goes… and mine too. But I owe a report to Her Majesty. It was her condition to let me go.”

“So very Riza,” Roy kissed his hair. “Okay. I can write to her myself on your behalf, if you want.”

“Yes, please.” Ed touched his newly plaited braid and smiled. “Thank you, Roy,” he turned to him, and Roy closed his eyes, pleased to hear Ed say his name.

“Stand up. We need to break the news to Maes,” he tugged Ed’s hand. “And then, I hope, he’ll leave us alone for some time to recover.”

Ed laughed and stood up; he felt lightheaded. He didn’t care about anything anymore — he was in love, he was loved; he now could have that bright future that Roy had promised him.

And Ed knew he wouldn’t fail to deliver.


End file.
